


A Past Worth Having

by Honorificabilitudinitatibus



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Humor, BAMF Sansa Stark, Baelish is his own warning, Catelyn Stark did NOT come here to play games, Catelyn loves Jon because he keeps her children from making really stupid decisions, Dany is Westeros' attorney general, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family Feels, House Snark of Winterfell, I'm not kidding, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Jon is the only sane man, Kidnapping, M/M, Oberyn Martell is a Secret Agent, Oberyn and Ellaria help Sansa stay sane, Petyr Baelish is a creep, Petyr Baelish plots in his sleep, Protective Arya Stark, Protective Jon Snow, Rhaegar's A+ parenting, Rhaegar's not even the villain here but I think he gets insulted more than anyone else, Robin is a good kid I promise, Sansa is overwhelmed by the sheer amount of family she has, Sansa is the Lindbergh Baby basically, Sibling Bonding, Slow Burn, You will regret messing with her and her children, and a DRAGON in the courtroom, attempted accurate depiction of a media firestorm and consequences thereof, but of COURSE Sansa has mixed feelings, but with a happier outcome, damnit Robb, he's just dealing with a lot, lots of text conversations, seriously guys this is really heavy on the family relationships, the stark and targ kids grew up together in winterfell, this one has a big ensemble cast sorry guys, this starts as a found family piece and a conspiracy unfolds, tons and tons of honorary aunts and uncles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2020-06-03 06:24:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 107,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19458205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honorificabilitudinitatibus/pseuds/Honorificabilitudinitatibus
Summary: When the eldest daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark is stolen from her bed as a child, the Westerosi media seize upon the investigation, dubbing it ‘the case of the century’. Several years later, tragedy strikes the family again, as Lysa Arryn vanishes into thin air with her son, Robert.Eighteen years after the Stark Kidnapping, WBI Special Agent Oberyn Martell- investigating the Arryn case- walks into a small coffee shop in Braavos, nearly tripping over his own feet when his order is taken by the girl whose face has been on every 'missing child' poster in Westeros for the last two decades.When Sansa discovers that she is the missing Stark child, she's suddenly and violently thrust into a media spotlight that she’s in no way prepared for. Amidst reuniting with a family she doesn’t remember and steeling herself to testify against the man who raised her, she meets Jon Snow. He isn’t family- not biologically at least- but he’s a calming presence in the storm that has become her life, and he might be the only person in the world who doesn’t expect anything of her.The one where Sansa Stark is discovered to be the Westerosi version of the Lindbergh baby, but things turn out better, if more complicated.





	1. Secret Agent Man

**Author's Note:**

> Special Agent Oberyn Martell decides that he's going to find decent Dornish coffee in Braavos if it _kills_ him, and in doing so, accidentally solves a case he's been working for almost two decades.

“This is often the way crimes get solved- through a side door. The clue that led to New York’s “son of Sam” killings was a parking ticket David Berkowitz was issued for parking his Ford Galaxie too close to a fire hydrant near the site of his final murder” 

  
― **John Edward Douglas, The Killer Across the Table: Unlocking the Secrets of Serial Killers and Predators**

* * *

Sansa mentally reviewed her to-do list while the shop was slow. Myranda had put on a John Mayer album again, and Sansa had heard it plenty lately, and had no regrets about letting her mind wander.

_Finish pattern design final project. Pick up Robin from school. Study for history. Take Robin to his doctor’s appointment. Clean your bathroom. Ask father about going to Volantis with Mya._

She sighed. The last one was a no-go- she knew that her father would never allow her to go as far away as Volantis without him, and he couldn’t leave Braavos this summer because work would keep him busy. As it always did.

She hissed as the espresso machine she was cleaning burned her, turning to run her sore hand under water. When she looked up, she nearly yelped.

There was a man standing almost right in front of her, the most amazed look on his face. Sansa hadn’t heard him approach at all- and she wondered if her thoughts had simply gotten too far away from her, or if this man was some sort of secret agent.

She did that, sometimes. Made up little stories about the customers who came in to pass the time, and to live a bit vicariously through them. Ragman’s Harbor always had decently interesting characters, and It wasn’t as though she really got to have much adventure as Alayne Baelish, anyways.

After her mother’s death, years before, her father had grown overprotective of her and her brother to the point where Sansa, even as much as she loved her father, was feeling more than a little smothered. She hadn’t been allowed to move on campus for school, and she had gotten lucky that Braavos Central University had such a strong fashion program, as her father hadn’t wanted her to go as far away as King’s Landing or Oldtown, and he had flat out refused White Harbor when she had brought it up.

 _A secret agent._ She decided. _With lovers on every continent-_ his face was _very_ handsome- _and chasing a prolific crime lord across Essos. He’s ducked into my shop to avoid detection from one of the man’s own agents, who spotted him in the square along the way._

Sansa smiled at him, greeting him.

“What can I get for you?” she asked, observing his clothing. He didn’t look Braavosi- he wore a burnt orange shirt that had a colorfully patterned border at the sleeves- it stood out against his weathered olive skin. Sansa would have bet every cent in her meager bank account that he was Dornish. His eyes seemed to dance as he smiled at her, and she hoped she wasn’t blushing.

“You wouldn’t happen to have Dornish coffee, wouldyou?” the man asked, looking hopeful.

“Of course!” Sansa told him. “This is Braavos, sir. If it exists, you can probably find it somewhere in this city.”

“Very true.” The man agreed, his face serious even as his eyes sparkled. There was something almost boyish and mischievous to his face, and Sansa liked him immediately. “I figured I was more likely to find it here, rather than in the Purple Harbor.”

“You might still find it there-“ Sansa laughed as she rung up his order, “It’s just probably going to cost about three times what we’ll charge in this neighborhood, and might have some sort of odd herbal infusion in it.”

The man looked about as disgusted as she had ever seen anyone look- It was really rather funny.

“That-“ he muttered, shoving the change she gave him viciously into their tip jar, “-is _not_ how anyone in Dorne typically drinks their coffee.”

“That’s gentrification.” Sansa shrugged, giving him a wry grin. “Everyone thought it was gross until they stuck it in a tiny cup, added some overpriced flowers, and charged about six dragons for it.”

The man barked out a short laugh.

“Can I at least count on a decent cup here?”

“You’ll have to tell me.” Sansa shrugged. “My best friend loves it, but I’m more of a tea drinker myself.”

“Fair enough.” The man chuckled, taking the cup she handed him. “Thanks for the heads up-“ he squinted at the nametag around Sansa’s neck, “-Alayne.”

“Of course- enjoy!” she told him, watching him wave at her as he walked away.

* * *

Oberyn’s hands were shaking as he dialed the number, impatiently pacing by the water a block away from the small coffee shop he’d just left.

“Pick up- pick up-“ he muttered, checking his watch.

“Hey Oberyn.” A slightly raspy voice answered at the other end.

“Lya.” He greeted shortly. “Is your wife there?”

“Aren’t you in a mood.” She chuckled. “Yeah, El’s just coming in from outside and asked me to answer while she washes the dirt off her hands. Her vegetable garden‘s been a resounding success so far.”

“Excellent.” Oberyn muttered, anxiety pooling in his stomach. “Sorry Lya- I really am glad to hear the garden is doing well, but it’s kind of urgent.”

“Sure thing. No one wants our secret agent man kept waiting, I gotcha. Here she is.”

“Beryn?”

Oberyn exhaled with relief.

“Elia.” He greeted.

“What happened? I know that tone.” Oberyn grinned.

“El, I think I just caught a pretty major break in the case.”

“Which one?” his sister asked, casually. Oberyn could hear water running in the background, and assumed she was washing vegetables. “Gods I can’t even specify ‘the kidnapping case’ because you’re working two of them.”

“Sansa’s.” Oberyn breathed, excitedly. There was a pause, and the sound of running water cut off.

“What are you saying?” Elia asked, cautiously. “That you have a solid lead?”

“No, El- I think I just found Sansa.”

There was a beat.

“You’re _kidding_ me.” Elia breathed. “Oberyn, you can’t be-“

“I’m absolutely serious.”

“How?” Elia asked, sounding flustered. It was a rare thing for his usually calm sister. “Where? Oberyn, have you called Ned and Cat?”

“You can’t say anything to Ned and Catelyn until I can confirm it.” Oberyn told her, firmly. “I shouldn’t even be saying anything to you, but I’m still shocked that it happened- El, I walked into a coffee shop in Ragman’s Harbor and she was just _there._ ”

“How did you know it was her?”

“She looks just like Catelyn.” Oberyn told her. “Same face, same eyes and hair, but her chin and height are all Ned Stark’s.”

“Oberyn I don’t want to doubt you-“ he heard Elia sigh, “-but a resemblance to Cat isn’t exactly ironclad evidence.”

“I know, Elia!” Oberyn exclaimed, nearly throwing his hands up. “Believe me, I know, but _Gods_ I just have a feeling here.”

Elia was silent for a moment before Oberyn heard her chuckle.

“You and Lya and your hunches.” She told him, affectionately. “Just the other day, she came in ranting and raving about corrupt businessmen and a money trail she’s following on nothing more than a hunch- although I think most people who encounter Roose Bolton assume he’s not exactly law abiding- or at least leave the meeting feeling slimy about the whole affair.” She was quiet for a moment. “But I trust Lya’s gut, and I trust you too. I won’t say anything to Ned and Cat, but Lya’s probably going to grill me about this the minute we get off the phone.”

“That’s fair.” Oberyn admitted. “As long as she doesn’t say anything to the Starks yet- particularly Catelyn, who will have my head if I make a mistake here.”

“What are you going do next?”

“She’s going by a different name-“ Oberyn frowned, “which is unsurprising, all things considered. Dig into her records- see who she is, where she’s from, and once I have enough evidence to justify it, I’ll get a DNA sample from her.”

“You’re just going to compel one?” Elia asked, tone incredulous.

“No, that’s far too risky.” Oberyn shook his head. “We had a bit of a chat today about the inauthentic Dornish coffee that Braavosi hipsters are trying to sell for an absurd amount of money in a certain neighborhood, so there’s a bit of rapport there. I might just come in a few times this week to see if I can repeat that- maybe I can catch her on a break and just talk.”

“Just be careful.” Elia reminded him. “I know you, and I know you’re good at what you do. But if someone took the time to take Sansa and raise her all the way in Braavos, they may not take kindly to someone trying to take her back.”

“I will, don’t worry El.”

“I always worry about you.” Elia chuckled. “So does Doran. Call him sometime, will you?”

“I will.” Oberyn promised, feeling guilt curl in his stomach. “I talked to Ty and Nym just yesterday- I’m not completely cut off.”

“Is Bara still deployed?”

“She’s teaching at the Military Academy in Kings Landing at the moment.” Oberyn told her. “Just got back recently- while we’re on the subject of calling, she’d probably love to hear from you and Lya.”

“We should be able to make that happen.” He heard the smile in Elia’s voice.

“Excellent.” Oberyn muttered, glancing behind him. “El, I need to run. I have to go talk to Daemon about this before he leaves the Braavosi PD for the day.”

“Alright. Be careful- and let me know as soon as you find _anything_ Oberyn.”

“I will. I promise.”

* * *

Sansa was surprised to see the Dornishman back two days later in the shop, another man trailing behind him and looking decidedly less cheerful than the colorful man before her.

“I take it the coffee was authentic?” Sansa asked, smiling at him.

“More so than any other place we’ve tried in Braavos so far.” The man snorted. “My partner doesn’t believe me, so I dragged his grumpy ass here with me so you could prove him wrong.”

“Sure.” Sansa laughed. “Two Dornish coffees then?”

“That would be fantastic. For here if you would.”

“That, we can do.” Sansa smiled, quickly fixing their drinks. “Are you two here for work then?”

Oberyn nodded his head, yes.

“We both work for the Westerosi Bureau of Intelligence- the WBI.” He told her, with a flirty smile. She blushed, but smiled back.

“Sounds exciting.”

“The footwork can be a bit dull.” Daemon grumbled, gladly taking the coffee she handed him. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Let me know if I can grab anything else for you guys.” Sansa offered, before directing her attention to the next customer.

* * *

Oberyn and Daemon Sand- significantly more awake now, thanks to the coffee- sat down at a table farthest from the register and other prying eyes and ears. Oberyn pulled out his phone, and showed a picture to Daemon while the man sipped on his drink.

“You took a picture of the girl already?” Daemon asked, looking incredulous. Oberyn shook his head.

“That’s a picture I got from the Starks- that’s Catelyn Stark as a teenager.”

Daemon’s eyes widened near comically, but he kept his composure.

“Alright. I’m on board with your hunch. You were right. Do you want me to say it in Rhoynish, too?” He sighed at Oberyn’s cheeky grin. “Gloat all you want, asshole. What’s our next move?”

* * *

Oberyn yelled an obscenity, watching in amusement as Daemon nearly jumped out of his chair next to him at the Braavosi WBI Building.

“You want to explain what you’ve found?” Daemon asked, tiredly rubbing his eyes. “And no dancing around it, Oberyn. We’ve been at this records search for _days._ ”

“Come look.” Oberyn pointed at his computer screen, his fingers trembling with excitement or anger or adrenaline- perhaps all three. Maybe it was simply the caffeine.

Daemon rolled his chair over, following Oberyn’s finger with his eyes, and promptly swore in three different languages.

“Alayne Baelish. _Baelish_!” he hissed. “All this time he was right under our fucking noses.” Oberyn growled. “Made sure he had an alibi that we couldn’t contest, and he _took_ her and hid her away all because he couldn’t take a woman’s rejection.”

Daemon’s eyes widened as he read through the files that Oberyn had pulled up.

“Alayne and Robin. Their mother’s name was Alys Ehrling?”

“Lysa Arryn.” Oberyn huffed. “The pictures on record for her son aren’t great, but it’s almost definitely Robert Arryn- that’s Jon Arryn’s nose if I ever saw it. She apparently died five or so years ago- ESRD according to the reports.”

Daemon frowned.

“Alayne attends university at Braavos Central-“

“Shit.” Oberyn swore, spinning around in his chair, clutching fistfuls of his hair. “She’s probably walked past Arya on campus at some point- Catelyn is going to have _kittens-_ “

“We have to figure out a way to confirm it before we do anything.” Daemon pointed out, ever the sensible foil to Oberyn’s impulsiveness. “And we have to be _careful_ \- if he gets even a hint that we’re about to catch him-“

“He’ll run with Sansa and Robert.” Oberyn muttered. “I’m not sure that compelling a DNA sample from either of them is the way to go- it could frighten them and spook him enough to leave.”

They were silent for a moment.

“All these years looking on two separate cases and they converged right where we never expected them to.” Daemon said, his tone disbelieving. “You did, I suppose. Gods- your theory was right.” He suddenly grinned at Oberyn. “I’m going to fucking _clean up_ in the office betting pool.”

Oberyn scoffed.

“There were people who bet _against_ me?”

“Not Rhaenys.” Daemon chuckled. “I promise, your niece still believes in you- wants to be just like you for some godsdamned reason. The Blackfish is going to lose a bit of money though.”

“Tully should know better than to doubt me by now.”

“He’s close to the case.” Daemon shrugged. “It is his family, after all.”

“A family that was torn apart by the very parasite they invited in, years ago.” Oberyn gritted his teeth. “Catelyn mentioned a few times that Lysa was obsessed with Baelish when they were younger- I’d guess he didn’t bring Lysa to Braavos with him until a year or so after the Arryn investigation began. We looked into him initially- Catelyn was certain Lysa would get in touch with Baelish if she could.” He shook his head, combing a restless hand through his dark hair. “I don’t doubt that Lysa was complicit in Robert’s kidnapping, but we knew there was no way she would be able to hide so well, and for so many years on her own. Sansa didn’t have a choice, but-“

“But we don’t know how devoted she is to him.” Daemon finished. “Nothing about this is going to be clean, Oberyn.” He warned. “She’s probably attached, Robert’s probably attached-“

“-and it’s going to be difficult to separate them from him.” Oberyn sighed. “Gods- if I could go back in time and warn Hoster Tully-“

“You can’t.” Daemon shrugged, ever the realist. “All we can do now is catch the wily bastard, and hope like hell the media doesn’t eat Sansa and Robert alive.”

Oberyn swore again, glaring at the image of Petyr Baelish that had appeared in the WBI’s databases. Smug, intelligent, and utterly without conscience. Listed below his name it simply said:

‘ **Children:** Alayne Baelish (20), Robin Baelish (14)’

Their pictures were clearly displayed, and he wondered how in the seven hells it had taken them this long to put it all together.

Catelyn was going to be a wreck when she found out that her childhood friend- the same friend who had assisted the Starks in the search for Sansa, and had funded and coordinated local law enforcement efforts to find the girl- was responsible for the eighteen-year horror story that her family had been forced to endure.

Baelish had returned to Westeros after the kidnapping to ‘show support’ to Catelyn- giving him a solid alibi for the actual crime. Oberyn suspected if they dug deep enough into financial records, they would be able to find records of a payment from Baelish to a hired contractor. Someone, somewhere, had to know something. Either that, or there was a body trail they would have to follow.

What turned Oberyn’s stomach the most, though, were the Braavosi records. He had gotten in touch with the correct departments, and while it was certainly possible the Baelish had simply backdated the documents, Oberyn knew enough about him to know that he was a planner. He had produced a birth certificate for Alayne Baelish immediately after she was ‘born’, and Braavosi records clearly showed that he had married a woman named Alys Ehrling two years prior.

His lip curled as he clenched his teeth. Baelish had laid the groundwork, and laid a paper trail so absolute, that without DNA samples, Oberyn would have a hard time proving anything. He had planned this whole thing as _soon_ as Sansa had been born. He had watched and waited with the patience of an ambush predator- striking when the Starks were least expecting it.

Oberyn would bring the sick fuck down if it was the last thing he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea is sponsored by me listening to old episodes of 'My Favorite Murder' and wondering 'what if?'
> 
> The idea kind of grabbed me and wouldn't let go- and has a pretty clear idea what direction it wants to go in.
> 
> The title comes from 'I Shall Wear Midnight' by Sir Terry Pratchett:
> 
> "There have been times, lately, when I dearly wished that I could change the past. Well, I can't, but I can change the present, so that when it becomes the past it will turn out to be a past worth having....Learning is about finding out who you are, what you are, where you are and what you are standing on and what you are good at and what's over the horizon and, well, everything. Its about finding the place where you fit. I found the place where I fit, and I would like everybody else to find theirs"
> 
> I'm excited to see this one through! Let me know what you think


	2. Bitter Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Sansa had sat down in the shop after work to get some studying done, she hadn't exactly expected to have the world pulled out from under her feet. Special Agent Martell is determined that she hear him out though, and so she does. 
> 
> Turns out, studying for finals is going to have to take a backseat to assisting an investigation.

“Behavior reflects personality. The best indicator of future violence is past violence. To understand the "artist," you must study his "art." The crime must be evaluated in its totality. There is no substitute for experience, and if you want to understand the criminal mind, you must go directly to the source and learn to decipher what he tells you. And, above all: Why + How = Who.”

**― John E. Douglas, Mindhunter: Inside the FBI's Elite Serial Crime Unit**

* * *

Sansa was finally off work, and had decided to hang around the shop for a little while longer to finish some of her homework. They were reaching the point in the semester where final exams were at the forefront of most of the students’ minds. Sansa had a lot of planning to do for her pattern design exam- as well as a history course to begin studying for. Her history professor had at least been kind enough to let her write her final paper for the course on the history and role of clothing in ancient Lys, which would make it considerably easier, as well as more interesting for her.

“Do you mind if I join you?” she heard a familiar voice ask. Sansa looked up, into the face of one of the Dornish WBI agents that had come into the shop a few times recently. She gave him a hesitant smile.

“Sure.” She agreed, noting that there didn’t seem to be any other tables open at the moment.

“Are you a student?” He asked, sitting down with his coffee and laptop.

“At Braavos Central.” Sansa told him. There was something odd in the way he was looking at her that was different than their previous interactions. Not like he was eyeing her inappropriately, but it was as though her was studying her, watching for her reactions. It didn’t make her uncomfortable- merely curious. “I study fashion merchandising and design.”

“You would get along well with my daughter.” He grinned. “She’s working in the Industry in Kings Landing at the moment.”

“Oh wow-“ Sansa’s eyes widened, “She must be very talented.”

“Nym is a staff writer for Vogue.” He told her, eyes smiling. “She’s always been passionate about fashion, and loves getting to cover the fashion shows there.”

“It sounds like a dream job.” Sansa answered, honestly. “I’m still trying to pass my finals, much less find employment.” She paused. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I caught your name?”

“Oberyn Martell.” He gave her a wide grin. “Special Agent Oberyn Martell.”

“I’m Alayne Baelish.” She introduced, feeling herself relax a little. He didn’t seem like a threat, after all. “But everyone calls me Sansa.”

He froze for a moment- only for the briefest of seconds- but Sansa noticed it nonetheless.

“That’s an interesting nickname.”

“It’s what my father has always called me.” Sansa shrugged. “Most people do, now.”

“Well, Sansa Baelish, I haven’t been entirely honest with you.” Oberyn told her, not breaking eye contact. He was an intimidating man- she wasn’t surprised he worked with law enforcement. “I actually wanted to ask you a couple questions- I think you might have some unique insight into a case I’m looking at.”

“Me?” Sansa asked, skeptical.

“I’ll grab you another tea if you hear me out.” Oberyn offered, gesturing to the now-empty mug next to her. After a moment’s pause, she nodded.

“Black with lemon if you would.”

His answering smile was reassuring, and Sansa took a deep breath. She wasn’t in trouble, he just wanted information. Her father would be furious- he hated law enforcement- but Sansa had always liked spy movies- the romantic, adventurous side of her was almost excited to see what information she could possibly have that would aid a WBI investigation. It wasn’t like her father needed to know anyways. It would be good to have something- however small- that she could keep to herself.

* * *

Oberyn knew that Sansa was suspicious, and that he would need to tread carefully to avoid her completely shutting down. He brought over her tea, and she thanked him, a genuine smile on her face at the sight. She breathed in the scent of the tea and gave a small, near imperceptible sigh.

“It’s been a long day.” She admitted. “I’m normally a bit more polite than this, I promise.”

“Think nothing of it.” Oberyn waved a hand. “One of my daughters is around your age, and she called her mother just the other day in tears over her own exams. Chemistry, I believe.”

Sansa winced.

“That sounds dreadful.” She admitted. “I just have a few huge projects to finish- I only have 3 actual exams to worry about.” She cleared her throat, looking down and feeling awkward. There was a pause. “What did you want to discuss?” Sansa finally asked, looking across the table at him, looking more than a little nervous.

“A couple of things, if you have the time.” Sansa nodded. “How long have you lived in Braavos?” Oberyn asked, stretching his long legs under the table.

“About as long as I can remember.” Sansa tells him. “I lived with my father when I was little- we moved here from the Vale for his job, and mother and my little brother followed us after father had established his business enough to support all of us.”

“Your Valyrian is very good.” Oberyn told her, watching as she blushed at the compliment.

“Thank you. My father insisted we speak it at home for the first two or so years after we moved here, so that I wouldn’t have trouble when I started school. It’s easy enough to swap between Valyrian and Andaii now, and Robin has more trouble remembering Andaii at times.”

“How old is your brother?”

“Is it pertinent to your investigation, Agent Martell?” Sansa asked innocently, tilting her head to one side. Oberyn almost laughed. Catelyn Stark’s daughter, raised by Baelish, and he should have guessed she’d see right through him. It was interesting though, that she seemed instantly protective of the boy, and more reluctant to talk about him than herself.

“You don’t beat around the bush.” He told her, approvingly.

“Are you trying to make me more relaxed around you with small talk?” Sansa asked, raising a brow in a way that way so heavily reminiscent of Ned Stark that Oberyn nearly told her right then and there. “Or is this actually relevant to your investigation?”

“A bit of both.” He confessed, watching her face settle into that neutral expression she’d worn when he walked over once again. “I actually wanted to ask you about Lysa Arryn.”

“I’m sorry, who?”

“Formerly Lysa Tully-“ Oberyn told her, watching carefully to see if anything sparked a reaction, “A Westerosi woman from the Riverlands. She married Jon Arryn, the last of an old line of Westerosi nobility, and a prominent businessman in the Vale. You said you were from there?”

Sansa nodded.

“I don’t remember much of it, but we lived in a little house in the Fingers for a bit when I was a girl- near Gulltown.”

Oberyn nearly whistled. That was _bold_ of Baelish, to hide the girl right under Jon Arryn’s nose, _especially_ when all records Oberyn had been able to obtain from the time showed Baelish living in Braavos. He really needed to look into Baelish’s contacts back in the Vale- there was a good chance he’d been living under an assumed name, but the possibility of another accomplice was too great to ignore.

“I moved here with my father before I started primary school, though.” She continued. “Father may have mentioned him, I’m not sure. The name sounds familiar. Did something happen to his wife?”

 _Did it ever._ Oberyn thought, sardonically. Lysa’s disappearance had been a huge scandal in Westeros at the time, but Oberyn knew that the Braavosi had had a few political scandals of their own, mostly involving corrupt bank officials, around the same time as her disappearance. The fallout in Braavos likely would have eclipsed most coverage of the Arryn case that was coming out of Westeros. The Stark kidnapping case had been different- making international headlines for months, due to the sensational nature of the case- but Sansa would have been too young to remember the frenzied media coverage that had followed her disappearance.

“She disappeared about 13 years ago, along with her then infant son, Robert Arryn. Jon Arryn is a well-known man in Westeros, and the case became a media firestorm. We had conspiracy theorists practically coming out of the woodwork when the bureau wasn’t able to locate them.” Oberyn told her. “It was a political marriage, largely, and a lot of people suspected that Arryn was complicit in it- he and his wife had not been particularly affectionate, but he was absolutely devastated by the loss of his son.” He cleared his throat. “The bureau cleared him as soon as we could, but he completely left the political world. He drew back from his business and poured his resources into finding them.”

“Gods, that poor man.” Sansa murmured, horror and sympathy clear on her face. “Were they ever found?”

“Not yet.” Oberyn told her, reaching into his bag to pull out his tablet. “One of the theories that we’ve looked into in recent years involves the possibility that Lysa Arryn left of her own accord, taking Robert with her.”

“That’s-“ Sansa shook her head, lips pressed together, “That’s awful. I can’t imagine what my father would do if anyone took one of us away.” She paused, looking up at Oberyn, who carefully kept a straight face. “What information would I have about the case, though?”

“Have you ever seen any of the pictures from the case?” Oberyn asked, flipping through files. Sansa shook her head, no. “I’d like to show you a few- see if you’ve come across any of these individuals.”

Sansa nodded and closed her laptop, leaning over the table to look at the photo that Oberyn had pulled up. It was an older man, with blond, rapidly graying hair. There was something familiar in the set of his jaw, but Sansa didn’t know him.

“I don’t recognize him.” She admitted. “Is he a suspect?”

“That’s Jon Arryn himself.” Oberyn told her, sliding to a second picture, of Jon Arryn, holding a red-haired infant in his arms.

“He looks so happy.” Sansa murmured, feeling her heart ache for the older man.

“His previous marriages had all ended with stillborn children.” Oberyn told her. “I think he’d given up on the idea of being a father before Robert.”

He slid to the next picture, and Sansa immediately frowned, and then paled, the implications hitting her with the force of a freight train.

“That- that’s my mother.” Sansa stammered, recoiling slightly and looking up at Agent Martell, whose face was firmly set. “She can’t have been wrapped up in this. Agent Martell-“

“That’s a picture of Lysa Arryn-“ Oberyn told her, his voice gentle, “-taken the week before she and her infant son vanished.”

Sansa’s mind was spinning, and she drew in a deep breath, meeting the agent’s eyes.

“This can’t- my mother died five years ago, Agent.”

“I’m aware.” Oberyn told her. “I’m sorry for your loss.” His words were sincere, but Sansa still had mixed, messy feelings surrounding the woman. Sansa had never quite been enough for her mother, who had always doted on Robin and had told her father that he spoiled Sansa. She’d never been an affectionate woman with anyone but Robin and her husband, and Sansa had had to work to earn her praise. She _had_ loved her mother, but she had sometimes been a difficult woman to love.

“It’s fine.” Sansa said, somewhat stiffly. “It’s been several years, after all. Agent, are you insinuating that my brother is-“ She trailed off, not able to bring herself to say it.

“We’ve been looking into records for the better part of six months now, and the timeline fits.” Oberyn told her, not unkindly. “In all likelihood, your mother, Alys Ehrling, was actually Lysa Arryn, and your brother Robin is her son, Robert Arryn.”

Sansa’s hands tightened around the mug she had picked up, and she gulped down a mouthful of lemon tea, the bitter tang on her tongue a cold comfort.

“Robin was- our mother kidnapped Robin? Her own son?” she asked, feeling oddly detached. She could hear the horror in her own voice, but she wasn’t sure yet that this was real. “but he’s…”

She trailed off, unable to find the words. Oberyn was giving her a look that she couldn’t put a name to. It wasn’t malicious or gleeful, just analytical and sympathetic.

“This isn’t happening.” Sansa heard herself mutter. “It’s not- she couldn’t- she had me-“

Something cold crept up Sansa’s spine at the thought, and she gripped the table in front of her.

“Did Lysa Arryn have a daughter before her son?” She asked, her voice almost a whisper.

Oberyn’s sympathetic face was answer enough. “Oh my god.” Sansa heard herself saying. “Oh my god.” She felt nauseous and light- like she had just stepped off a roller coaster. She had gone on a few with Sweetrobin, who loved them, but Sansa had never enjoyed the sensation of her stomach falling out beneath her.

This couldn’t be happening. Her mother hadn’t been a kind woman, and had either been devoid of affection, or smothering with it, but she had _raised_ Sansa and Robin. If Sansa wasn’t her mother’s daughter, and Robin wasn’t Petyr Baelish’s son- what did that mean? Who was Sansa’s mother, if not Alys Baelish, who she resembled so strongly that no one had ever questioned them? Did her father know? Sansa shivered, drawing her arms in tightly to herself.

“That can’t be possible.” She told Oberyn Martell, her voice as firm as she could make it. “I look exactly like my mother- so does Robin. There has to be…” she trailed off.

“Sansa-“ Agent Martell’s voice was kind, but Sansa didn’t want to hear it.

“But my father-“ she began, breaking off and biting her lip, “-he’s never- I don’t-“

“Sansa.” Oberyn’s voice said, more firmly this time. Sansa opened her mouth, but immediately shut it at his expression- kind and fierce at the same time. What was she thinking? This man was a _stranger_ \- she knew nothing about him, and yet, she almost wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that Alys Baelish or Lysa Arryn- whoever the woman had been- wasn’t her mother. For a split second, Sansa had wanted to believe that she wasn’t this woman’s daughter, and hated herself for it.

“Are you alright?” Oberyn asked her, looking genuinely concerned as he tilted his head to meet her eyes.

“I’m- I’m confused.” Sansa managed to get out. “What does- If she wasn’t my mother, then who was?” she swallowed, shaking her head and biting her lip. “I’m sorry- you probably don’t have any way of knowing that. But I-“ she felt a tear slip down her cheek. “I looked just like her. My- my father was lying to me?”

Another, horrible thought occurred to her.

“Robin-“ she looked up at Agent Martell in horror, “Robin idolizes our father- he loves him, and looks up to him, and he’s struggling in school lately- oh my god.” She whispered, clapping a hand over her mouth. “He’s going to be devastated.” She looked up at him, desperately. “Please- Agent Martell- what’s going to happen to my brother? Are you going to take Robin away?”

“His father would like him back, once we get a genetic confirmation of his identity.” Oberyn told her, gently. “But I’m sure that no one is going to keep you from your brother, Sansa. I promise you, I’ll ensure it myself if I have to.”

Sansa managed to nod, exhaling shakily.

“My-“ she tumbled over her words, a horrible idea coming to the forefront of her mind, “My father- he said Robin was his. He wasn’t involved, though. He couldn’t have been.”

Oberyn gave a heavy sigh, running his hands through his hair, and Sansa felt the pit drop out of her stomach.

“No.” she said, sounding much more confident than she felt.

“Petyr Baelish used to be one of the most prominent businessmen and politicians in Westeros.” Oberyn told her, watching her carefully. His eyes saw too much- There was a sharpness in them that Sansa didn’t like- didn’t want directed at her. “But about twenty-two years ago, he just vanished. Dropped off the map in Westeros. Records showed that he had moved to Braavos- that he had married. Had a daughter two years later, and then a son. It’s all backdated- official records show that both you and your brother are the children of Alys Ehrling and Petyr Baelish.”

“But Robin isn’t.” Sansa said, dully.

“Neither are you.”

Sansa felt her head snap up and she locked eyes with Oberyn Martell.

“Petyr Baelish is my father.” She told him, feeling very far away.

“The funny thing about Petyr Baelish,” Oberyn told her, gently, “Is that he’s terribly connected to all the right people. He was a master businessman in Westeros because of it, and all of his connections tended to be based off of a childhood friendship with the children of Hoster Tully.”

“Was he my mother’s- Lysa Arryn’s father?”

“The very one.” Oberyn nodded, approvingly. “Lysa apparently had a very intense crush on him- her father didn’t approve, and sent Petyr away when they were teenagers. They stayed in touch though, and Lysa helped him climb a ladder that he had been born too poor to reach on his own. It’s a shame that Petyr loved the wrong Tully girl, though.”

* * *

Sansa’s eyes widened, near comically, and her breaths became so shallow that Oberyn began to worry she was going to have a panic attack. She seemed to catch herself, though, and pursed her lips.

“Enough dramatics and half-truths, please, Agent Martell.” She managed to get out, teresely. “Please- just tell me what you’re trying to tell me.”

Oberyn was impressed with her composure, but she was rapidly fraying around the edges. He glanced around, as he had been doing constantly, to ensure that no one was listening to them. The shop was noisy enough to drown out their words though, and tucked in the back, there was little chance of drawing attention unless Sansa began shouting. Based on prior observation, Oberyn didn’t think she would, but he had several officers waiting to grab Baelish if Sansa did panic and alert him to what was going on. He would prefer to ease Sansa into the idea, but he would see Baelish behind bars one way or another.

“My apologies.” He told her, somewhat genuinely. His daughters- Elia in particular, who was around the same age as Sansa- often told him that he had an overblown sense of the dramatic. There was no getting around it, though- this story was about as dramatic as they came. “Petyr Baelish loved Catelyn Tully, Lysa’s older sister. So much so that he openly tried to fight one of her earlier boyfriends for her hand- never mind that Catelyn had no interest in him.” He shook his head in disgust. “Catelyn Tully never thought of him as anything more than a childhood friend, and she married Eddard Stark- the hereditary lord of one of the oldest families in Westeros, and an even rarer thing- a good man.”

He watched Sansa carefully- her face itself was expressionless again. The only thing that betrayed her unease now was the way she continued to smooth out invisible wrinkles in her skirt.

“Lucky her.” Sansa murmured.

“Indeed.” Oberyn agreed. “Catelyn and Ned Stark have been married for about 26 years now- far longer than many are able to make it- especially considering the tragedy that befell them 18 years ago.”

“Tragedy?”

“You’re not familiar with the Stark baby kidnapping?”

“Only in the broadest sense.” Sansa admitted, looking embarrassed. “My father never really liked true crime, and-“ she cut herself off, pursing her lips. “I’m sorry, keep going.”

Oberyn wondered when she would put it together. If he had learned anything from their conversation already, it was that Sansa was far smarter than he had given her credit for. Catelyn was sharp, but he suspected that a good deal of Sansa’s cleverness was innate, as well as shaped by Baelish, who was a horrible man, but a frighteningly clever one.

“The Stark family was staying in White Harbor at the time-“ he told her, “and one morning, the household awoke from a drugged sleep to find their oldest daughter- a two-year-old girl who favored her mother’s side of the family- gone from her bed. There was only a ransom note left in her place.” He briefly closed his eyes. “I was called in almost immediately, and-“ he paused, as he noted the beginning flickering of horror rising behind Sansa’s eyes, “-It’s not a scene I’m ever likely to forget. Catelyn was clutching her other children to her as we reviewed the scene- We shouldn’t have allowed them to be there, but she refused to be separated from them at the time. I had never seen calm, collected Ned Stark so terrified- I thought we would need to sedate him.”

“That poor family.” Sansa murmured, fists beginning to clench. “That’s-“ she broke off, a muted choking sound dying in the back of her throat, and simply shook her head.

“If the child were alive today, she would be twenty years old.” Oberyn gently told her. “Her name was Sansa Stark.”

* * *

Sansa couldn’t breathe.

Nothing about this made sense.

 _But it does, though, doesn’t it?_ The small voice in the back of her head whispered. _Father would never let you go anywhere- never let you travel, or even leave Braavos to go to school. Haven’t you looked in the mirror and wondered why you didn’t inherit any of his features? Why your mother seemed determined to dislike you? Seemed jealous of you?_

Sansa clamped down tight on those thoughts, and took a few deep breaths. Mya had taught her a couple of exercises after a poor experience with a boyfriend had left Sansa shaky and anxious for weeks after. Granted, Mya had also helped beat the living daylights out of the asshole, which Sansa really didn’t think her best friend would be able to do in this situation.

“What are you implying?” she finally managed to ask Oberyn Martell, meeting his eyes- challenging him. To his credit, he didn’t back down.

“That your name isn’t Alayne Baelish.” Oberyn replied, simply. “That your name is Sansa Stark. That Petyr Baelish kidnapped you, or more likely, paid someone to do his dirty work for him, eighteen years ago.”

“You don’t have proof.” Sansa heard herself say, voice far colder than it typically was.

“We have evidence. The timeline fits. Would I approach you with this if I wasn’t certain?”

 _Play a game._ The voice whispered. _Play father’s game. Why would Oberyn Martell accuse father of this crime? Why would he think it was you?_

“When I want to understand someone’s motives, sweetling,” her father had once told her, during a breezy dinner out on their balcony, “I play a little game.” He had grinned at her, and Sansa remembered feeling slightly floaty, from the wine she had drunk, and smiling back at him as he spoke again. “I assume the worst. What’s the worst possible reason a person could have for saying what they say, or doing what they do?”

“The worst, father?”

He had crept behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders and lowering his mouth to her ear.

“Ask yourself, then, sweetling- how well does that reason explain what they say and do?”

Sansa typically found it an exhausting way to live- constantly assuming the worst of everyone and everything- but her father was one of the smartest men she knew. Sansa’s few memories of not taking her father’s advice had generally ended poorly.

**_What’s the worst possible reason that Oberyn Martell would accuse Petyr Baelish of this?_ **

He could be trying to frame her father- either to discredit him, or to get revenge for some slight, real or imagined. This man in front of her seemed more the type for revenge- not a man who would let things go.

 _But why would he want revenge?_ Her mind poked at her. _What slight could father have leveraged against him?_

Sansa didn’t know enough about the Martells or the WBI to know the answer to that question. It didn’t make sense, though. If he’d wanted revenge, going to Petyr Baelish’s daughter first was hardly the way to go about it.

Her father had his own way of looking at things- of assessing situations- but Sansa had found that people always acted with a reason, and with logic. Sometimes, that logic fit in with their own perception of the world, and wouldn’t have made sense to another person, but people generally made the choices that were logical, given their motives. Acting emotionally, even was logical in certain situations. She didn’t _like_ assuming the worst about anybody.

If Oberyn Martell wanted revenge on her father, or wanted to discredit him, then he would be a fool to attempt to turn the man’s daughter against him without solid proof that Sansa would betray him. _And Oberyn Martell is a very smart man,_ she noted, somewhat uneasily. She thought of the way he had gradually begun to frequent the shop, establishing himself as someone who wasn’t a threat, and earning her trust- or at least enough goodwill for her to listen to him.

**_What’s the worst possible reason that Oberyn Martell would accuse father of this?_ **

The thought echoed in her mind, loud as thunder.

 _Harming father._ She thought, desperately. _Harming me. Harming Robin. Tearing apart our lives._ But there was something poking at the back of her mind, and she desperately tried to ignore it. Why, after all, would a WBI agent like Oberyn Martell risk his career just to harm her family? _Revenge? Does someone in Westeros want to harm us?_

Her father talked often about the corruption inherent in Braavos’ legal system, after all, even if Sansa knew very little about the Westerosi system. Oberyn Martell could simply be a small piece in a far larger plot.

 _Liar,_ her mind accused, bringing back a memory of her father.

“Never lie to yourself, sweetling.” Her father had told her, after her first failed boyfriend at the age of 14- all limbs and acne and long hair. The boy had been a jerk- breaking up with her for one of her friends- and Sansa had been too infatuated to notice the warning signs. 

“Lie to others as long as it protects you, but self-deception is a waste of your time. You knew something was wrong, but you didn’t want it to be true, and so you lied to yourself. And now you’re hurting.”

He had put an arm around her, and listened to her sniffle about him for another twenty minutes. Her mother had been out with Sweetrobin, or she would have been furious that her father was being more affectionate to Sansa than to her.

“Listen to those warnings that your mind and body give you- your subconscious can see far more than you can, sometimes.”

_What’s the worst possible reason that Oberyn Martell would say these things?_

Sansa pushed down at the nausea she felt bubble up in her throat as the answer came to her.

 ** _Because they’re true._** She realized, swallowing down her panic. **_Because father did these things. Because this man isn’t taking any pleasure in this realization- He’s not trying to hurt me, or my family._**

**_Because my father lied to me._ **

****

* * *

Oberyn watched as Sansa seemed to process the information. She was silent for a long time, seemingly lost in thought. Her calm, quiet voice was a surprise when she chose to use it.

“You have evidence.” She told him, her face bizarrely placid. “But not enough evidence. Not yet at least. That’s why you came to speak with me. You want my help.”

Oberyn could hear the bitter refrain behind those words.

_You want me to do your dirty work for you._

“If your mother and father are both innocent parties in this, you could easily exonerate them.” He shrugged. No point in lying- she seemed to hear the requests behind his words as loudly as if he’d shouted them.

“What do you want?”

“DNA.” He answered, simply. “Samples from you and your brother. Once we have those, I can tell you within a few days whether my words have merit or not. If your samples don’t match the DNA we have from the Stark and Arryn families, then there’s no reason for you to worry.”

Oberyn watched Sansa close her eyes and take a breath. She looked small, despite her height, and fragile. Almost like she was trying not to fold in on herself. Nevertheless, she straightened her spine- steeling herself. It nearly made him start- it was a gesture he had seen Catelyn Stark perform more times than he could count. She would bolster herself against the inevitable updates from Oberyn and his team- the dead ends and false hopes, holding her shoulders high like a queen.

Oberyn had very few doubts what the DNA would tell them.

Sansa opened her eyes, and he was caught in a bright, steely blue gaze.

“How do I get it for you?” she asked.

Oberyn smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll get more and more into the details of the case as the investigation goes on, but Sansa's certainly gotten the shock of her life. She's smart enough to read between the lines of what Oberyn is and isn't telling her- let's hope she's smart enough to keep this secret from Petyr Baelish. 
> 
> Next chapter we'll see a bit more of the ramifications of Sansa's choice, and how she handles the situation, as well as interactions with Robin, Petyr, and Mya!
> 
> This particular chapter took forever to write, because it's really difficult to imagine a scenario where you tell someone they were abducted at birth. Oberyn, of course, makes it as dramatic as possible, but isn't without some sympathy for her. Daemon is probably lurking outside of Baelish's workplace and watching the creepy jerk- he and Oberyn thought this would be better as a one-on-one conversation.
> 
> Thanks so much for your kind comments! I absolutely love them, and I'm really excited about this story.


	3. Corrosive Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa decides to do some investigating of her own, and confides in her best friend when her father starts behaving strangely. 
> 
> Across the city, Oberyn Martell finally gets the news he's been waiting for.

“It wasn't by eliminating the impossible that you got at the truth, however improbable; it was by the much harder process of eliminating the possibilities. You worked away, patiently asking questions and looking hard at things. You walked and talked, and in your heart you just hoped like hell that some bugger's nerve'd crack and he'd give himself up.” 

― **Terry Pratchett, Feet of Clay**

* * *

Sansa went to the library later that night, sitting down at a guest computer to log in and begin typing. It was better not to use her personal laptop- her father wouldn’t be pleased to learn that she was researching true crime. He had often told her he worried it was too violent- that it would frighten her away from living a full life.

Now, Sansa wondered if that had ever been true. Had his concern masked his desire to conceal all evidence of his crimes fromher? Sansa knew she wasn’t stupid- her father had often praised her mind, and Sansa knew he had been slightly disappointed that she had gone into fashion, rather than studying business or politics. Her father had always liked to follow politics, though Sansa had not, and hearing his recounting of Westerosi elections had bored her to tears as a child.

Her father _. Not her father_.

She didn’t know what to think, and could feel a buildup of tension in her forehead. She decided that she couldn’t dwell on the possibility until she had the necessary information. She pulled up google, punching in ‘Stark Kidnapping’ and refreshing the page.

Over five _million_ hits, she realized, paling.

Sansa, already slightly overwhelmed, clicked on the first article from a news source that she recognized- the Braavosi Times. Skimming it, the details of the case seemed to be exactly as Oberyn Martell had told her.

The baby- a two-year-old Sansa Stark- had been taken from her bed in the dead of night while the Stark family visited White Harbor. There had been a ransom note left, but the kidnappers- she tried not to think about her father- had never shown up to the meeting. The article included a picture of the house- a well-kept manor by the ocean- as well as a picture of Sansa Stark, who was smiling and clinging onto a boy who was slightly older than her, but with similar features. Robb Stark, according to the article- the eldest child of the Starks.

Sansa zoomed in, staring at the picture and searching desperately for similarities. Sansa Stark’s hair was lighter than hers, although their eyes were the same color. It was impossible to put her finger on it, but there was a sort of rough resemblance in their features. The more Sansa looked, though, the more it felt like she was imagining it- creating features and similarities that weren’t there. It was giving her a headache, and she rubbed at the back of her neck, trying to ride herself of some of the tension.

She pulled up several more articles, clicking through the additional information provided. The WBI had theorized that it was an inside job, she learned; aside from the household staff, no one had known that the Starks were spending the weekend in White Harbor. They had suspected an older member of the household- a housekeeper named Nan Anders. The woman had committed suicide later that year, apparently under the immense pressure of the investigation, and the investigators had cleared her name shortly after her death.

Sansa pursed her lips, feeling tears well up in her eyes at the woman’s picture. She couldn’t imagine how terrible it must have been for her- to brave that kind of media circus, and be suspected of such a horrible thing.

_Was this- this false speculation- what she was about to put her father through?_

She shook off the thought, shuddering, and opened another page on the kidnapping. There were a number of conspiracy theories floating around, apparently, and a popular one was that the Starks had been responsible for their own daughter’s disappearance- with people assuming that they had murdered their own daughter.

Eddard Stark had apparently completely lost his chance at an elected position thanks to the sway of those rumors in Westeros, but Sansa couldn’t bring herself to believe that the tall, somber man had had anything to do with the crime. She couldn’t explain it, but his eyes seemed gentle, even as the dark circles under them grew larger.

This page wasn’t just information, though- there was a video below. Sansa stuck her headphones into the computer, and cautiously hit the ‘play’ button.

Immediately, she wished she hadn’t. The video had been taken by a reporter, at what looked like a press conference, and Sansa watched in silent horror as Catelyn Stark- the tall, proud matriarch of the family- visibly crumpled, sobbing and wailing for her daughter, and pleading for the girl’s return. Sansa pressed a hand to her mouth, and barely kept herself from crying out. Eddard Stark and a man Sansa didn’t know- another redhead, but older, stood next to her, and gently helped her up from where she had collapsed, in the middle of making a plea, in front of at least fifty cameras, for her daughter’s life.

Sansa was horrified. Had her father caused this- this tragedy? Was he even _capable_ of that? Had Oberyn Martell gotten the right man, or was her father simply the scapegoat?

 _Either way,_ Sansa thought, staring at the video- frozen on Catelyn Stark’s grieving face, _I need to find out._

Tomorrow, she decided. She would meet Agent Martell tomorrow, and give him what he wanted.

* * *

“There we go!” the nurse praised her, pressing a cotton pad to the crux of Sansa’s elbow as she withdrew the blood sample. “Sorry, I know it’s a hassle, but blood holds up better than saliva in court.”

“It’s not a problem.” Sansa smiled, wanly. She was still pretty tired from the previous night at the library, but made a point to be as cheerful as she could. “What else did you need from me?”

“Just finish this form up, and you’re all good to go!” the nurse told her, patting Sansa’s shoulder. “I’ll get your sample to Agent Martell if he isn’t too busy flirting with the receptionist.”

Sansa’s eyes widened when she exited the lab and saw Oberyn Martell doing just that.

“I thought you were married.” She said, eyes immediately widening as she realized how rude that was. Apparently, she was more tired than she realized, if she was slipping like that.

Oberyn simply laughed though, joining her and taking the remaining paperwork and samples from the nurse.

“Ellaria is the mother to my children, and the love of my life, but she and I both enjoy flirting _far_ too much to ever give it up.” He quipped. “She and I are very… relaxed in our relationship that way.”

“Oh.” Sansa mumbled, face flushing. “Er- that’s great for the two of you.”

“It’s not uncommon in Dorne.” Oberyn shrugged. “It just takes communication and trust- two things I think need to be in every relationship, regardless of how open.”

Something ached in Sansa’s chest at his words. Aside from Mya, she didn’t know if she’d ever trusted anyone that much. Her father- _not your father_ \- often said that blind trust was for fools. Sansa had never been sure whether or not to believe him, but if the test came back conclusive, him telling Sansa not to trust people would take on a horrible tone of irony. It might end up being the only true thing he’d told her in her entire life.

It was a sobering thought- the idea of that many lies- and Sansa was grateful when Oberyn dropped her off at the shop without commenting on her silence during the drive over.

* * *

When Sansa closed the door behind her at home, later that night, she was unsurprised to see her father still up, sitting at their counter with his laptop out and financial records spread around him.

“How was studying, sweetling?” he asked, absently, not glancing up.

“It’s history, so I expected it to be dates and names, but Dr. Jensen wants us to focus on the different movements and their impact on the periods.” Sansa told him, hanging up her bag and walking over to put the teakettle on. Her stomach felt like it was churning, and she desperately wanted ginger tea, but her father would notice, and suspect that something was wrong. She had told him she was out studying with Mya, but _what if he caught her lie?_

“So it’s a bit harder than I thought, but nothing I can’t handle.” She continued, keeping her voice even. “Mya and I are about as prepared as I think we can be, but we’re studying tomorrow as well. Tea?”

“Earl grey if you would, Sansa.” Her father answered, looking up. “Did Mya drop you off here?” Sansa nodded. “Good. There’s been an uptick in muggings in the area recently. He gave her a shrewd look. “Have you considered finding a summer job closer to home? The coffee shop isn’t in the best area, and I worry.”

“Ragman’s is apparently a quickly gentrifying neighborhood.” Sansa quipped, a grin tugging at her mouth, despite her anxiety. “At least if Randa has anything to say about it- she’s been writing her sociology paper on the subject, so we’ve heard all about it.”

Her father frowned.

“That girl worries me.” He told her, and Sansa felt the familiar feeling of his smothering wash over her. “She could get you in trouble with one of those protests of hers- are you sure you want to keep spending time with her?”

Sansa bit her tongue. Pointing out that she worked with Myranda would only persuade her father to argue further that she find a different job, which she really didn’t want to do. It was one of the only things in her life that she felt like was _hers_ \- and she didn’t want to give it up. It was hard work, being on your feet, but Sansa loved getting to meet all of the interesting people that came through, and having both an excuse to talk to them when she wanted, and the ability to excuse herself when she felt like a conversation was done. Randa teased her- calling her a ‘gregarious introvert’, but Sansa didn’t mind. She liked working with the brash, outspoken girl. She didn’t concern herself with what anyone thought of her, and did what was good for her, propriety be damned. Sansa envied her that, a little.

“She’s more bark than bite, father.” She gently responded, reaching up into the cupboard for their tea. “Besides, I’m content to just watch her live large- I could never be the activist and organizer that she is.”

If her father relaxed at this, Sansa didn’t pay it much attention. She definitely didn’t wonder what it meant, that he wanted her to stay out of public attention.

“Have you thought any more about Volantis, sweetling?”

“I still want to go.” Sansa admitted, placing the mug in front of him, and sipping at her own. “And if we go, it would be wonderful to have Mya there with us the way you suggested the other night.”

“As long as you remember to include your brother in your activites.” Her father raised his brows, giving her one of his sly smiles. “He looks up to you.”

“Of course, father.” Sansa answered, honestly. She didn’t have any desire to exclude Robin. Even if Oberyn’s theory about him was accurate, she wouldn’t let them take him away. She let an impish grin cross her face. “Do you think Sweetrobin would want to go to the fashion museum with us?”

Her father laughed, although Sansa noticed that it didn’t completely meet his eyes. There was something there that she couldn’t pick out, but it was too well hidden to determine.

“I think Robin is a bit too old to follow you around like a little bird.” He responded, taking a sip of his tea. “But I know you would enjoy that- I don’t see any reason we can’t go there. Robin can spend an afternoon among clothing to make his sister happy, or he and I will have a chat.”

Sansa beamed, feeling some of the panic leave her. His smile now was all warmth and indulgence- she must have imagined the earlier tension- and he was her father again. The man who had taken care of her, dried her tears, and stayed up late with her when she was sick.

“Thank you father!” she pecked his cheek, sitting down across the counter from him. “I’m already looking forward to it.”

“As a matter of fact, I was thinking we might extend our typical two-week holiday there a bit.” Her father told her, flipping through a set of documents. Sansa’s stomach dropped into her feet, but she didn’t drop her smile.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I was thinking of expanding some of the restaurants- opening a few in Volantis. It’s a good time for it, economically- the market is strong- and we could do a bit of scouting and research while we were there.” He grinned at her, sly and knowing. “You could spend your entire summer exploring the Garment District of Old Volantis- I know you’d enjoy that.”

“Of-of course.” Sansa stuttered. “It’s just surprising- I thought you had business ventures here you needed to watch?”

_He knows something._

“Oh, business is a fickle enterprise.” Her father waved off his hands. “Besides, sweetling, new experiences are always good! Didn’t you want to go to school at Volantis’ Art Institute initially?”

“Well- yes,” Sansa admitted, “but I like the program here- I’m glad you suggested it. The professors are all so supportive, and I really like the department.”

Her father hummed, glasses perched on his nose as he looked at her.

“You’re not thinking of moving us, are you?” Sansa asked, her voice suddenly very small. “Father, I don’t want to leave Mya and the program here.”

_What does he know?_

“You’ve always been quick.” Her father praised her in the same, encouraging tone he’d use when Robin was throwing a tantrum. “Sweetling- don’t think too much on it yet. There’s research to be done, and a whole list of things to sort out before we can think on that. But I need you to promise me, though- If we do move, I need you to be the lovely, mature girl I know you are, and help your brother through the transition.” Sansa’s heart clenched at the thought of Robin, alone and friendless in a new city. “You know how he struggles with new environments- it would simply break his heart if we had to leave and you didn’t come with us.”

“I would never leave him, father.” Sansa promised, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. It was his ace- his trump card- and he knew that she would never do anything to upset Robin.

_He’s not your brother._

She needed to sleep- this was all too much. Even if a DNA test confirmed Oberyn’s theory, it didn’t make Robin any less her little brother.

“Are you alright, sweetling?” her father asked, looking at her with concern. Sansa could see the calculation behind his eyes. This was the analytical father- the man who thought sixteen moves ahead, and could sell the Titan of Braavos in his sleep. She wasn’t sure if this version of her father was better than the warm, kind, protector he’d been when she was younger, or worse. Right now, it only validated the presence of the lead weight that had appeared in her stomach.

“I’m just exhausted.” Sansa admitted, honestly. “Exams and projects have been a heavy load this week. I’m going to get some sleep- I promise I’ll be more cheerful in the morning.”

“Alright. Goodnight Sansa.”

She pecked another kiss onto his cheek, smelling the familiar aftershave that her father had used since she was a child. She tried, desperately, to banish her wandering thoughts.

“Goodnight father.”

* * *

When Sansa leaves work the next day, the first person she texts is her best friend of almost eight years.

**_Sansa Baelish:_** Ey

I’m headed to the Northside Library on campus

Want to join?

 ** _Mya Stone:_** Binch you know I’m swamped af

I need all the study motivation I can get

Physics is kicking my ass

Not the shop?

 **Sansa:** Not in the mood

I’m stressed like crazy

Randa’s driving me up the wall

Won’t stop talking about Harry

 **Mya:** yikes

Luv her, but can’t blame u

Meet on the steps?

 **Sansa:** perfect

See u there

“Something’s bothering you.” Mya told her, almost immediately after seeing Sansa on the library stairs. “Is it exams? The Hardying asshole? Randa? I can tell her to let up- she owes me for last week at the pub-“

“Let her have her fun.” Sansa muttered, giving her best friend a small smile. “It’s the closest thing she has to a spectator sport, and she’s stressed out about the fundraiser she’s helping run.”

“Not sure why she doesn’t just hook up with Hardying.” Mya snorted. “She certainly finds him attractive.”

Sansa smiled.

“Randa’s never going to settle down.” She shook her head, soft grin still in place. “She lives better than any of us, I think- I just needed more calm today than she can give.”

“That, I can help you with.” Mya declared, throwing her arm around Sansa as they made their way to one of the corner tables by the massive library windows. “Are we talking studying calm? My-grades-are-good-and-my-skin-is-clear calm? My dad’s being a wanker and I need to rant about him before I can be calm, calm?”

“All of the above.” Sansa groaned. “He’s just so-“

“Overprotective?” her friend asked. “You guys have like, no boundaries.” Mya pointed out. “He doesn’t even want you to move out- which sucks because I really need someone to live in the other room in my apartment or I’m going to be on the hook for double the rent.”

“He still won’t let me go to Volantis alone with you.” Sansa griped, pulling her study materials out of her bookbag. They had managed to snag a few of the armchairs, and dragged over a small table to pile their stuff on.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah- he suggested that if I wanted to go, we could maybe take a trip as a family. He did invite you, though.” Sansa pointed out. “He likes you a lot better than Randa.”

“Randa attracts boys to the two of you like flies- she’s too personable for her own good- and I scare them off.” Mya quipped, throwing a leg over the arm of her chair and cracking one of her books. “It’s my sunny personality, really.”

“You’re 6’1 and have horrific resting bitch face.” Sansa raised a brow at her friend, who promptly burst out laughing. “It’s a good power to have. Besides, you didn’t scare _Michael_ off.” Sansa grinned mischievously as her friend blushed.

“Michael is the exception.” Mya blustered, burying her nose in the book.

“He’s a sweet guy.” Sansa’s voice softened. “I like him- I think you two could be really good together.”

“If I can ever pull my head out of my ass long enough to have a conversation with him that doesn’t involve stuttering, maybe.” Mya muttered.

“What are you talking about? You were perfectly fine the other day when you two were debating the merits of that new study.”

“The climate change report?” Mya frowned. “Yeah, but it’s so much easier when I have a script to follow. Like, I _know_ ecology, but the minute the subject changes, I’m back to being totally lost.” She groaned, throwing an arm over her eyes. “It’s hopeless, San. I’m just going to be an awkward giant for the rest of my life. My mum will be so disappointed.”

Sansa’s laughter died in her throat as she remembered her own mother.

_Not your mother._

“Alright, spill, San.” Mya barked, startling Sansa out of her funk as she leaned forward. “I thought you would perk up if you got to tease me about my nonexistent relationship status, but apparently even that isn’t funny enough for this. What’s up?”

Sansa fidgeted with her hands in her lap, looking anxiously into the worried, electric-blue eyes of the girl she’d been friends with since both of them were awkward middle-schoolers. She loved Mya like a sister. She _trusted_ Mya- more than almost anyone else. Mya knew every complaint Sansa had about her father, and every worry she had about Robin.

Even more importantly, Mya knew how hard her mother’s death had been for Sansa- how she had struggled with the woman’s coldness to her, and Alys Baelish’s attempt to be kinder to her daughter during the last months of her life in the throes of a morphine induced delirium. Mya had never breathed a word of any of it to anyone- not even when she and Sansa had fought over a boy their freshman year of high school and Sansa had been _horrible_ to her.

If she couldn’t trust Mya, who the hell could she trust?

Decision made, she took a deep breath, glancing around to ensure no one could hear her.

“You can’t say anything about this to _anyone._ ” She told her friend. “Seriously- it’s not a matter of embarrassment- it could have legal consequences.”

“Shit, girl.” Mya raised her eyebrows. “What did you get involved with?”

“It wasn’t intentional.” Sansa moaned, burying her face in her hands. “Please, Mya, you have to _promise_ me-“

“Hey, you don’t even have to ask, San.” Mya told her, gently, a soft smile on her face. “I’ve got your back. You know that.”

And oddly enough, Sansa did. She lifted her head to meet her friend’s eyes.

“A member of the Westerosi Intelligence Bureau questioned me yesterday in the shop.” Sansa confessed. Mya’s eyes widened.

“Wha-“

“He thinks my father committed a crime back in Westeros- before we moved here.” Sansa told her, rushing through her words.

“Holy shit.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Sansa confessed, looking up at her friend in desperation.

“Do you believe him?” Mya asked, looking worried. “Isn’t there statute of limitations stuff that keeps the police from investigating old crimes? Like- is this guy even a real agent?”

“Not for this type of crime.” Sansa shook her head, her breaths heavy. “And he is. He’s on record speaking publicly about several of his cases- I checked.”

“You’re really pale, San.” Mya told her, leaning closer to her, a worried look lining her face. “Are you okay?”

“A WBI agent accused my father of a horrible crime.” Sansa buried her face in her hands. “More than one, actually! I’m fantastic!”

“He could have the wrong guy, San.” Mya told her, worry resting on the bridge of her nose. “He could just be following up on a lead and trying to scare you into giving him information- I mean, I don’t always like your dad- he’s way too overprotective and he’s kind of obsessive about things, but he’s not a criminal. I mean, what’s the accusation?”

“I can’t tell you.” Sansa whispered, exhausted. “But he was acting _weird_ last night- he mentioned the Volantis trip, and said something about looking at business opportunities down there?”

Mya’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline.

“That _is_ weird.” She muttered, pursing her lips.

“I mean, he just finished everything with the opening of that new club uptown-“ Sansa continued, biting her lip, “-and he implied that we might stay there for a while? I don’t know!” she shook her head, hysteria creeping into her tone. “Normally, I wouldn’t think twice, but what if he _knows_ , Mya? What if he found out I was talking to the agent? I-“

“One thing at a time.” Mya cut her off, taking her hand. “Okay? Just- I know this is a lot, but we consider all the ‘what-ifs’ at once.” Her blunt voice was a comfort- it gave Sansa something to focus on as she nodded at her friend. “Okay, good. So your dad is acting weird- that’s not abnormal, San.” She raised a brow. “It’s weird, yeah- but did the agent have anything concrete? Like, did he have a way of proving his accusation, or is he still getting evidence together?”

“He has DNA to run.” Sansa whispered.

“Fucking hell.” Mya swore, looking dumbstruck. “San- you really- you seem like you think he’s guilty.”

“I can’t-“ Sansa sniffled, burying her face in her hands again, “I don’t know, Mya!” she wailed, attracting more than a few raised eyebrows from the other library patrons.

“Okay.” Mya nodded, clearly thinking the situation through. “Okay. So they have a way to prove or disprove the accusation, right? It's not just this guy's hunch?”

“Right.” Sansa nodded, weakly.

“So you wait.” Mya shrugged. “It’s not ideal, obviously, but I mean- what the hell else can you do now? There’s not much use worrying about a crime your dad _may_ have committed- I mean- he may not have, for all we know.”

She sounded far more certain than Sansa suspected she felt. Mya had never really liked her father, so Sansa appreciated her defense of him more than she knew how to express.

“I mean- what do you think?”

“I think-“ Sansa started, pausing as the words caught in her throat. What _did_ she think? Was she going to believe a wild story from a WBI agent, or her own father?

Her father had always given her and Robin everything they needed, and indulged Sansa’s choice to study fashion, allowing her to pursue it even though Sansa knew it wasn’t what he had wanted for her. He had come to the shows that she had sewed costumes for in school when his business allowed, and been at most of her chorus concerts to hear her sing. He would smile and tease Robin, and always saved a special wink for her when Robin was being difficult. He was just- he was her father. That’s all there was to it.

But Sansa couldn’t shake that haunting image of Catelyn Stark, breaking down in front of a reporter’s camera as her husband rushed to her side. Her face had been so similar to Sansa’s own, and surely that couldn’t be _nothing_ even if Catelyn Stark was Alys’- was _Lysa’s_ sister. The woman’s face had been contorted in a cold grief that Sansa didn’t understand, but couldn’t help but pity, and she kept seeing her stricken face- even when she closed her eyes at night.

 _Only the DNA will tell._ She thought, banishing the image as well as she could.

“I don’t want it to be true.” Sansa admitted, the words practically rushing out of her. “I don’t- I don’t want to believe it, Mya, but what if I have to?” her stomach was turning, and Sansa hugged her arms to herself.

_What if I don’t have a choice but to believe it?_

* * *

Oberyn was nearly shaking with anticipation when he finally received the results of the DNA test, and gave such a loud whoop as he read the message that half the WBI office turned to glare at him.

He didn’t care. This was what he had been working towards for eighteen years. They would just have to endure his joy.

“Daemon!” he barked, summoning his partner, who took one look at the message and began to laugh.

“You did it- you wily bastard!” He chuckled, pounding Oberyn on the back. “I didn’t think anybody could, but you’ve managed it!”

“And you get to collect a tidy sum of money from the Blackfish.” Oberyn pointed out, wryly. “As does my niece apparently.”

They grinned at each other, the ebullience and sheer exhilaration of a break in the case hitting them both in that moment.

“We have to go through channels on this one.” Daemon pointed out, after a moment, taking Oberyn’s good mood down a notch. “He could bolt at any second.”

“He’s not taking the kids with him if he does.” Oberyn muttered, determined. “I’m not letting Ned and Catelyn’s daughter slip through my fingers this time.”

“We need to organize a SWAT team-“ Daemon was muttering, under his breath, “-alert the commander, keep the press _out_ at all costs-“

“Agreed.” Oberyn sneered, thinking about the vultures. “We can share with a few reputable sources once we have him in custody, but I’m not letting the tabloids get a hold of Sansa or her little brother.”

“Gods, this is going to get messy.” Daemon groaned, as the reality of their discovery set in. “I’ll handle press details once we get the fucker- Sansa’s more comfortable with you, and I don’t think we should leave her on her own- even at the station.”

“Sounds good.” Oberyn nodded, his head already whirling with plans for the next day. “As soon as we arrest him, I’ll need to call Ned and Catelyn. I don’t want to do it before we have him, though.”

He had worried for so long that he was never going to be able to deliver answers to the Stark family- to have them all fall into his lap, seemingly within a matter of weeks, was a heady feeling. Oberyn just hoped that his luck lasted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't ask me about the minutiae of forensic analysis- I genuinely don't know how it works, and I apologize if this is a gratuitous misrepresentation of forensic genetics haha.
> 
> We get to see Sansa and Petyr interact! It was the hardest scene to write yet, so I hope Sansa comes off realistically. She has this habit of pushing down and repressing trauma in the books, and so I imagine that she's doing a lot of compartmentalizing to keep herself from losing her mind here. Sansa has a lot of mixed feelings about the idea that Petyr stole her, and about Petyr in general, but even her justifications for why he couldn't have done this include a few warning signs- parents being overly controlling is absolutely abuse- although sansa doesn't really have a baseline here for what's normal and what isn't, so she doesn't find his behavior entirely off-putting, even if she's starting to chafe under his thumb.
> 
> Also, let's be real- we would all google it if we learned that we might be at the center of the most scandalous news story of the decade. Hopefully, Sansa using the internet helps set the story a bit more- a few of you asked what time period it took place in, and that should help clear things up :)
> 
> Mya! I love her, and I really would like for Sansa to have more female friends. is she Robert Baratheon's daughter, here? only time will tell. (Also, I love writing dialogue via text- it's super fun. expect more of it).
> 
> Oberyn Martell seems to have accidentally become the second main character in this story. It wasn't intentional, but I love him, so it's not unwelcome. I think he's going to play a major role in Sansa's life going forward, and help her with the transition to an extent. 
> 
> For those of you wondering- Jon will most likely appear in the next chapter. He has a big part in the story, there's just a lot more exposition with Sansa's situation than I was expecting. It's the opposite of a problem, but it does mean that Jon makes a later entrance than I intended. 
> 
> Thanks so much for all of your kind comments!! I love all of them, and you guys are fantastic. Let me know what you think!


	4. Flight Risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single call from Agent Oberyn Martell to Sansa sets off a chain reaction- leading the agents on a chase that threatens to turn deadly, and raises more questions than it answers.

“Being a homicide detective can be the loneliest job in the world. The friends of the victim are upset and in despair, but sooner or later - after weeks or months - they go back to their everyday lives. For the closest family it takes longer, but for the most part, to some degree, they too get over the grieving and despair. Life has to go on; it does go on. But the unsolved murders keep gnawing away and in the end there's only one person left who thinks night and day about the victim: it's the officer who is left with the investigation.”

**― Stieg Larsson, The girl with the Dragon Tattoo**

* * *

**NOW**

Sansa sat in the police station, numb to the world around her. Her knuckles were white where they gripped the edges of Agent Sand’s jacket. It was several sizes too big, and practically swallowed her up, but he had insisted.

She was in shock, he had said. She had been shivering, despite the warm summer breeze.

There had been so many flashing lights and screaming sirens- she could still hear their cries in her head now, even as the hectic thrum of the station buzzed around her. She wondered where the agents had gone- and if they’d forgotten about her- their prey well and caught.

Robin had gone with several of the other agents- furious about the arrest and the loss of their vacation, he’d been yelling at anyone who would listen. She hoped he was alright- he was still a child, after all, and facing down the barrel of a horrific loss. He had been nearly silent when he’d come back from giving a statement to them, and hadn’t said a thing to Sansa since.

* * *

**THEN**

Sansa pays little attention when the phone rings at work- she has a line of six people, all looking rather disgruntled that the shop’s ice machine had broken that morning. Sansa couldn’t entirely blame them- it was one of the hottest days she had ever experienced in Braavos, with the sun’s glare nearly blinding her where it reflected off the water outside. Sansa knows better than to think the canals are clean, but even she had been tempted to jump into the cool river water when taking the ferry to work earlier in the morning.

Instead, Sansa’s manager, Elissa, darts over to grab it, giving a hurried greeting with a plastic smile on her face. Sansa is so occupied with the man in front of her- who is loudly complaining about the fact that he can’t get an iced drink- that she almost misses the way Elissa’s face shifts, and the confused expression she adopts. She resists the urge to tell the man that he could find a drink somewhere else if he was going to be so rude about it, and merely smiles and nods as Elissa comes over, the receiver covered with one hand.

“Phone’s for you.” She tells Sansa, giving her an odd look. “Seems important. I’ll grab your register.”

Sansa thanked her, wondering who on earth would have needed to call the shop phone to get ahold of her.

“This is Sansa Baelish.” She greeted, holding the phone up to her ear.

“Sansa.” A familiar, warm voice answers. “How are you?”

“I’m doing well. It’s nice to hear from you.” Sansa says to Oberyn Martell, without yet knowing whether it really was nice to hear from him or not. She glances up at the clock- it’s only 12:15. She has a few hours before she can go home and finish studying for her history exam, and a feeling that they’re going to go very slowly.

“You’re very polite.” She hears Oberyn chuckle on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry to interrupt you at work, but I needed to chat with you sooner than later.”

Sansa’s heart leapt into her throat. It had only been a few days since she’d had blood drawn for the forensics lab, and she hadn’t expected to hear from the agents about it this soon.

“What about?” she managed to get out.

“We have results from your DNA test.” Oberyn told her, his voice sympathetic even through the phone. “Sansa- you’re not Petyr Baelish’s daughter. I’m so sorry.”

Sansa feels an odd sense of calm, despite the fact that Oberyn’s words have effectively obliterated her entire reality. Later, she chalks this up to shock.

“So I’m a Stark, then?” Sansa hears herself ask.

“Yes.” Oberyn confirms. “A complete match to Eddard and Catelyn Stark.”

“Ah.” Sansa answers.

“I’m sorry-“ Oberyn repeats, and Sansa wishes she had the words to tell him that he, of all people, didn’t have anything to be sorry for, “I know this is probably a shock.”

Sansa didn’t know what to do. She opened her mouth and then shut it again, and there was a long silence over the phone line.

“What happens next?” she finally managed to whisper, feeling lightheaded.

“We’re planning to arrest Baelish later today.” Oberyn told her, not entirely managing to hide the slight vindictive glee in his voice. Sansa can’t fault him for it- when she had looked up the case a few days ago, she’d found out that Agent Martell had been investigating it from the beginning- almost twenty years. It must have been horrible, trying and failing to find answers for a grieving family for that long. That image of Catelyn Stark collapsing at a press conference after the kidnapping has haunted her since she saw it, and she can’t imagine what the past twenty years have been like for the Starks.

But she can’t quite forget about her father. He wasn’t her father, apparently, but he was all she had ever known, and there was a small part of her that still wasn’t sure that all of this was real. She also couldn’t shake the dread that had begun building in her stomach- the knowledge and fear that Robin wouldn’t react well to any of this.

“Are you going to hurt him?” she hears herself ask, voice embarrassingly small.

“No, Sansa.” Oberyn reassures her. “I promise you, we don’t want any harm to come to him. We’re sending a unit to pick your brother up from school, and an officer will be by to escort you from work-”

“Agent Martell- Robin didn’t go to school today.” Sansa interrupts him, confused. “He wasn’t feeling well this morning.“

* * *

“We have a slight problem.” Oberyn muttered, after getting off the phone with Sansa. Daemon looked up from his computer screen.

“Is Sansa alright?”

“So far.” Oberyn told him. “She took the news as well as could be imagined under the circumstances. It’s Robin- Sansa said that he stayed home from school today- so we’ll have to be careful when we arrest Baelish. Do we have any idea where he is, yet?”

“He falls off security cameras at his restaurant office at around 11:45 am.” Daemon told Oberyn, focused intently on the information their tech analyst was streaming them as he bent over his computer.

Oberyn swore loudly, frightening a junior Braavosi officer who jumped nearly a foot in the air at the sound.

“Can we set up a perimeter of some sort? Limit where he can go?”

“We can try-“ the chief of police told him, back ramrod straight as he stood next to Oberyn, “But the canals make enforcement of that difficult- and the metro system won’t shut down over this- people would panic, and that could make it harder to find him.”

“Are there cameras in the metro?” Daemon asked, looking up from his screen.

“The analysts should be able to stream video from them.” The chief nodded, “But we hardly have any cars here, Agent. The metro tends to be too crowded; you may as well try to pick a needle out of a haystack.”

Oberyn swore again, and Daemon’s lips quirked.

“We knew that he wouldn’t be unprepared.” Daemon pointed out, as he typed directions for the tech analysts. “Baelish is meticulous- he’s prepared for every eventuality, even if he doesn’t yet know that we have him. We only have evidence against him in the first place because of Sansa-“

“He couldn’t predict- or _didn’t_ predict- that she would doubt him enough to assist us.” Oberyn muttered. “Is Sansa still at the shop? She may have some insight into where he would be right now.” He pointed at one of the junior agents. “Call Maggiore’s Coffee- see if Sansa Baelish is still clocked in and working.”

The agent ran off to the phone, and Oberyn watched closely as Daemon began to sort through the gigabytes of data they were being sent from the metro cameras. Daemon had always been better with computers and data than Oberyn- his daughters frequently told him he was useless when it came to those sorts of things.

The junior agent came back in, holding his thumb to the phone to mute it. His face was an ashen gray.

“Agent?” he interrupted. Oberyn turned to look, but Daemon kept combing through the files. “I just talked to the owner and the manager on shift today. Sansa Baelish left the shop about forty-five minutes ago- said she wasn’t feeling well. Manager said she was running a fever, and was having issues with a migraine.”

Oberyn felt a pit open up in his stomach. Sansa had seemed fine on the phone earlier.

“She’s gone?”

* * *

Sansa had never faked an illness to get out of work before, but she’d also never been a person of interest in an international kidnapping case either, so she figured it was just going to be a week of firsts. It had been easy to convince her manager that she wasn’t feeling well- She’d certainly taken care of a sick Robin often enough to fake it convincingly.

Walking as quickly as she could down the busy avenue near the harbor, Sansa wondered how fast she could get home if she ran part of the way. She needed to be there with Robin when the agents arrested their father- if Agent Martell needed to put a team together, she might have a chance to beat them to the house. Her brother would be devastated, and she couldn’t risk anything happening to him if he tried to stop the agents.

She also needed to talk to her father. Sansa had seen the DNA results herself, but she still couldn’t entirely bring herself to believe that he had done what Oberyn had accused him of. Maybe it was a mistake of some sort. If she was the missing Stark child, maybe someone else had been responsible for stealing her. Maybe her father had taken her in, unaware of the circumstances.

_You don’t really believe that, do you?_

Sansa quickened her pace as much as she could. If she could just talk to him- if they could just find out what had happened…

Agent Martell had said not to contact him, but she needed to know. She needed to find Robin and get him out of there.

**Sansa Baelish** : Are you and Robin still at home?

 **Petyr Baelish:** We’re headed out for a few errands

 **Petyr Baelish:** Why don’t you join us?

 **Sansa Baelish:** Sure

 **Sansa Baelish** : I’m on Pyntos street- I just left work

 **Petyr Baelish:** Head towards Antaryen’s Circle- your brother and I will meet you there

Sansa didn’t know what he wanted to do, but this could be her only chance. It would take her father and Robin a few minutes to make their way over on the ferry from the barrier island their neighborhood was in, so she had enough time to make it if she hurried.

* * *

“Where the hell would she go?” Daemon muttered, agitatedly spinning from one direction to the other in his chair. “You can’t reach her?”

“Not yet.” Oberyn muttered, looking at the most recent text he sent, asking where she was. “There has to be a reason she’s not staying put, though.”

“Baelish has her brainwashed?” Daemon snorted, clearly frustrated. Oberyn shook his head, no. “Do you think she’s going to warn him?”

“She’s scared of him.” Oberyn muttered. “I don’t know that she realizes it- I think it’s more subconscious than anything- but I would bet anything she walks on eggshells around him. You should have seen her when I told her that we suspected him. She immediately jumped to the possibility that he might be guilty, but she would have sworn up and down that he wasn’t.”

“She’s been psychologically dependent on him in a bastardized parent-child relationship.” Daemon argued. “He’s likely had her since before she could remember. She’s attached to him- it’s not out of the realm of possibility. Victims can end up empathizing with their abductors- coming to care for them in some cases.”

“She was more protective of her brother than Baelish, though.” Oberyn muttered, pacing as he ran his hands through his hair. “Didn’t want me asking questions about him, but talked about Baelish freely enough. She’s smart- figured out half of it on her own before I could get to the nasty details. When I told her that it would exonerate Baelish if he was innocent, she agreed to give me a sample almost instantly. She cares about him, but she doubts him, too.”

“So she wouldn’t warn Baelish, necessarily-“ Daemon began.

“But I don’t think she would leave her brother alone either, knowing we were planning to arrest Baelish.” Oberyn nodded. “She mentioned how attached Robin was to the man- that was what she was most upset about when I told her about Lysa. That Robin would be devastated by the news. Hardly said anything about Lysa- she was more worried that Robin would be taken away from her.”

“She’s going to try and get to her brother.” Daemon concluded.

“Most likely.” Oberyn muttered. “Damn!” he swore, smacking a fist against the wall. “Her brother is probably going to be with Baelish, so Sansa will be too. We get to that house and he’s not there- he’ll know we’re onto him. He’ll run. He might even take Sansa and Robin with him.”

“Can we set up a trace on his cell?” Daemon wondered, typing frantically “It’s a long shot, but it could help narrow down where he’d go.”

“Can’t hurt. We don’t know how much Baelish knows, though.” Oberyn muttered, perching on the back of an office chair, fingers tapping the chair’s arms. “That’s the problem. His behavior is tricky to predict, but if he thinks he’s safe, he’ll stay put. If he’s feeling cornered, he might try to flee. Send a couple of units down to the docks and the airport just in case if we have the men to spare.” He told one of the officers, who nodded, jogging off to the command center.

“But if he doesn’t try to run-“ Daemon started, warily.

“-then we’re stuck going through the city with a fine-toothed comb.” Oberyn muttered, shoulders drooping.

* * *

Sansa only realized where they were headed once they crossed over to the mainland.

“Father, are we going to the airport?” she asked, keeping her voice as steady as she could. She smiled at him, as she gripped the edge of her armrest in the passenger seat of the car.

Meeting them at Antaryen’s Circle had been the easy part- but she had assumed that they would either walk or take a water-taxi to wherever her father wanted to go. But he had led them to a car- a rarity in Braavos, where most of the city streets weren’t large enough for anything but the smallest vehicles. They had passed over the long concrete bridge that separated the main islands of the city from the rest of Essos, and it only made sense to take this highway if they were going to the airport.

“I can’t keep anything from you.” Her father grinned. “Excellent. You’re aware of your surroundings, unlike a certain brother of yours…” he trailed off, and Sansa smiled nervously as she glanced back at Robin, who was completely absorbed in whatever video game he was playing on his DS. He hadn’t seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary- Sansa knew that would make it harder to separate them later, and was frantically trying to think of an excuse to take Robin out with her when they got back.

“Why though?” she asked him, noticing the way his hands tightened minutely on the wheel.

“You’ll see, sweetling. It’s a surprise, but I think you’ll enjoy it.” He pronounced, smoothing his hair back.

Sansa nodded, giving a small smile and doing her best to look excited. Her phone buzzed, and she plucked it out of her pocket to see who it was. The ID read ‘Jaymes Hartyn’- the pseudonym she had used for Oberyn Martell in her phone.

**Jaymes Hartyn:** Where are you headed this afternoon? Was hoping to study for history with you. If you have to watch your brother like you said, it’s fine if he tags along.

“Anyone interesting?” Her father asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just someone I know from my history class.” Sansa shook her head, flashing the screen for her father to see. “He wants to study later, but I told him I promised to stay home with Robin.”

A part of Sansa didn’t like how easy it was becoming to lie to him. She had started doing it long before Agent Martell had entered their lives- a white lie here and there, to allow her a night out with her friends, or the occasional date that she didn’t want to have to bring home for her father to vet. She had lied about the internship in White Harbor she’d applied for- filling out everything on Mya’s laptop to keep him from finding out that she had bigger dreams than staying in Braavos with him and Robin for the rest of her life. Even the larger lies were easier, now.

He still didn’t know about Agent Martell, after all, and Sansa had never kept such an explosive secret in her entire life. She texted him back, willing her fingers not to shake.

 _“He could have a way to monitor your messages.”_ Agent Martell had warned her. _“Be careful what you send me, if anything.”_

* * *

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“I’ve told you-“ Oberyn repeated for the third time, teeth clenched, “Sansa is smarter than you’d expect. She’ll understand the message even if she doesn’t respond.”

“And if she doesn’t?” The police captain snapped. “You’re letting a lot ride on the whims of a twenty-year-old girl, Agent Martell.”

“We’re looking into other options as we speak.” Oberyn snapped, stepping forward until he was almost toe to toe with the man. “But bringing Baelish in is secondary to getting Sansa and Robin back safely- so someone needs to be monitoring her phone.”

“Oberyn!”

Oberyn whipped his head around at the sound of Daemon’s voice. The man was holding his cell out, eyes wide, and practically threw it into his hands.

“She got back to me.” He murmured, quickly looking at her text.

**Sansa:** My father forgot that I have an exam tomorrow- He wanted to run a few errands on the mainland. We’re near the airport now

 **Sansa:** I don’t know what time we’ll be back, but I have to watch Robin

 **Sansa:** He’ll have to come with if you want to meet somewhere.

“She must be with Baelish now.” Oberyn muttered. “I mentioned the possibility that he was reading her texts earlier, so she’s probably trying to obscure a hint so Baelish wouldn’t understand it.” He reread the messages. “The airport. They’re headed towards the airport.” He sprang up from his chair. “Chief, I need you to send all available units there as soon as you can. Redirect as many as you can- and call the airport. See if we can delay some of the flights- I don’t know which airline they’re taking-“

“I don’t think they are.” Daemon interrupted, brows furrowed. “If I had to guess a destination, I’d say Ibben maybe, or Volantis- neither of them will extradite prisoners to Westeros, so Baelish wouldn’t have to worry about being caught and returned- but there’s no record of them on any of the passenger manifestos for flights going there.” He turned to look at Oberyn as his phone buzzed again.

“Another text from her.” Oberyn muttered, showing it to Daemon, who nodded.

**Sansa:** did you manage to figure out question 6F on the homework? I’ve never seen anything like it before

“He could have bought tickets under a false name.” Another agent pointed out.

“He could.” Daemon agreed, “But I don’t think he did. The airport has a couple of hangars for private planes, and one of them is scheduled to leave later this evening. The destination isn’t mentioned because it’s not a commercial flight, but according to our tech analysts, it’s being stored in-“ he squinted at the screen as Oberyn leaned over him to follow his mouse, “-Hangar 6F!” he exclaimed.

“Like Sansa’s text.” Oberyn muttered, already storming out of the room. “Airport. Now!”

* * *

Her father flashed his ID at the runway gate, and they drove straight onto the tarmac, only stopping at something that reminded Sansa of a warehouse, labeled ‘6F’ above the door. She quickly sent off another text to Agent Martell, praying that it was clear enough for him to understand. When the doors opened, though, there was a small, private jet waiting there, with the doors open. She pocketed her phone and followed her father and Robin, stepping out of the car to look up at the plane.

“A business associate of mine is allowing us to borrow it.” He told her, looking up at the private plane and smirking. “What do you think?”

“Father, I don’t understand.” Sansa told him, hands trembling. “What are we-“

“I thought I would surprise the two of you!” he grinned, gesturing wildly. “You’re finished with exams- I thought we should celebrate with an early trip- head out later tonight to Volantis!”

Robin let out an excited whoop, eyes sparkling.

“Can I go look inside?” he asked eagerly, dashing off the instant their father nodded.

“I still have my history exam left, father.” Sansa said, softly, watching Robin disappear into the plane’s cabin. Her father’s grin was razor sharp, and far too bright, and something was _wrong_ with it _._

“You said that was just an elective course, sweetling.” Her father reassured, putting an arm around her shoulder. “I’m sure it won’t hurt if your grade isn’t an A for once.”

 _That_ certainly wasn’t like the man who had raised her.

“But you said-“

“Sansi- you have to come see!” Robin called, sticking his head out the plane door. “It’s so cool in here!”

“Just a moment, Robin!” she called back, looking back at their father. “Father- I haven’t packed anything for a trip- neither has Sweetrobin. And I-“ she chewed her lip nervously, “I can’t go- I still have that exam left, and then I have work-“

“Life is more than working, Sansa.” Her father told her, placing a hand on her back to guide her towards the plane. “Look how excited your brother is!”

“He still has school for a few more weeks.” Sansa muttered, wringing her hands. “Father-“

“Relax, sweetling.” Her father crooned. “I’ll talk to his teachers- Volantis is teeming with history and culture, and doing an extra credit project there will probably teach him more than he can learn in a classroom.”

Sansa bit her lip, unsure.

“He’s struggled so much this year though-“ she murmured, trying to stall him, “He only has a few friends, and it can’t be good for him, socially, to miss all of the end-of-year celebrations-“

“He’ll benefit more from a vacation.” Her father dismissed, patting her arm. “It’s kind of you to think of him, though. Sometimes, I think you’ve mothered him better than Alys ever did.”

Sansa’s eyes widened at that admission, but before she could respond, a tall, well-built man in a suit and tie stepped into the hangar, and headed straight for them.

“Excellent!” her father clapped his hands beside her. “Arlan- right on time-“ he turned to her, “Sansa, sweetling, this is Arlan Dothoryos- our pilot for the trip. Would you mind keeping Robin company for a moment while we chat about logistics?”

It wasn’t a request. Sansa nodded, and began to walk away, but caught a glimpse of a black shape on the inside of their pilot’s jacket, and her blood ran cold. A gun. Their pilot had a _gun_.

Suddenly, she wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

* * *

Robin had been so excited to see the interior of the plane that he was practically vibrating with it, but Sansa couldn’t share in any of it. On top of her worry for her father, she couldn’t shake the fear that had bubbled up in her stomach when she had seen the pilot’s sidearm.

Guns were largely banned in Braavos- only the police carried them, and they were a rare sight. It wasn’t like the Bay of Meereen region, where they had next to no firearm regulations, and Sansa had never seen one before she met Oberyn Martell.

She pushed down on the worry, though- her father had called her back out again, although Robin had excitedly stayed in the plane with their pilot. He had been largely silent for a few minutes.

“You remember my associate, Dontos?” her father asked, suddenly breaking their silence. Sansa nodded.

“Mr. Hollard?”

“The very one.”

“What about him?” she asked, unable to keep herself from glancing back at the plane where Robin still was with Arlan Dothoryos.

“He mentioned something rather odd to me yesterday.” Her father told her, one eyebrow raised. “He was at the coffee shop you work at the other day, and mentioned to me that you’d been talking to a WBI agent.”

Sansa was taken aback. She hadn’t remembered seeing Dontos Hollard anywhere near the shop.

“Father, I-“

“Sansa.” Her father warned, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t lie to me, Sweetling. Oberyn Martell, was it?”

Sansa froze, staring at her father in shock.

“He stopped in for Dornish coffee-“ she managed to get out, “He just wanted to ask a few questions about mother.”

Her father’s lip curled.

“How many times have I told you that law enforcement is dangerous?” he asked, his tone smooth and seemingly unaffected. Sansa knew better, though. His eyes were _furious._

“He just wanted to know when mother had moved here.” Sansa protested, resisting the urge to take a step back. She knew from experience that it would only make him angrier. “I didn’t- I didn’t leave the shop-“

Sansa’s words were cut off as the hangar doors began to open wider, and the bright wail of sirens came on so suddenly that Sansa nearly jumped three feet in the air. Police cars were skidding around them, and her father grabbed her wrist- gripping it tightly enough that Sansa knew it would leave a bruise later.

“On your knees, Baelish!” she heard a familiar voice shout. Daemon Sand was circling them, gun trained solely on her father, and Sansa froze at the sight of the barrel.

“I’d listen to him, you sick motherfucker.”

Sansa was simultaneously relieved and worried to see Oberyn Martell come up from the other direction, his own weapon pointed right at them. There was a velvet fury in his voice, and something quiet and vindictive in the tight set of his mouth.

“Sansa, get back.” Oberyn ordered.

“Are you going to shoot him?” she managed to get out, panic gripping her like a vise. Her eyes flicked back and forth, from Petyr to Oberyn. Agent Sand was over to the side of Oberyn, his own gun out as well, and trained on her father.

“Not if he comes in quietly.” Agent Sand reassured her, pitching his voice low. “We don’t want any of you to come to harm. We just need to take Mr. Baelish into custody.”

Daemon Sand’s voice was calm, and Sansa latched onto it like a life preserver. It was a balm, in light of Oberyn Martell’s barely restrained wrath.

Earlier, Sansa would have said that she trusted Oberyn Martell to keep a cool head, but looking at him now, you would never know that this was the same warm, funny family man that Sansa had been starting to trust- to like, even.

She had never seen Agent Martell so furious before, and it was terrifying in its sheer intensity. His lips were curled back in a snarl that was almost inhuman, teeth bared, and the fury in his eyes was a frightening thing. Only the guns trained in her vicinity kept Sansa from taking a few steps back. His glare hadn’t shifted from her father, and his ire seemed solely focused on Petyr Baelish.

“Put the guns down, gentlemen.” Her father spoke, his hands raised, and his voice infuriatingly calm. “No one needs to get hurt today.”

“Get on the ground.” Oberyn snarled. “Hands in the air, and behind your head.” He tipped his head to one of the uniforms. “Cuff him, and make sure he doesn’t have a weapon.” He turned to look at Sansa, gun still clearly pointed at Baelish. “Where’s your brother?”

Sansa opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

“Sansa _please_.” Oberyn’s voice was desperate, ragged. “We need to know where he is.”

She swallowed down bile as she nodded, taking a deep breath.

“in the cockpit.” She managed to get out. “there’s a man- a guard- maybe the pilot- I don’t know- with him.” She was sure her eyes looked practically manic at this point, wide as they were. “Oberyn, he had a gun. He had a gun oh my _god-_ “ She slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the hysteria bubbling up, as Oberyn directed several agents towards the plane.

Suddenly, it didn’t matter that one of the officers was shoving her father towards a police car- she needed to get to Robin- _gods_ she had forgotten her own _brother_ \- what was _wrong_ with her-

“Sansa!” she heard a shout, and then someone was restraining her- keeping her from running- keeping her from _Robin_ \- as her brother emerged and walked down the stairs out of the plane, the pilot trailing behind him, hand going to his gun as he took in the scene with surprise.

Faster than Sansa could register, the pilot had his gun in hand- pointed at Oberyn- and there was an almighty crack, an echo of a shot, and Sansa heard someone screaming.

It took her a moment to realize that it was her. Daemon was holding her back- not tight enough to harm her- but she couldn’t move, even as she tried to fight against him. Robin was wearing a confused face, and he started to turn, only for Oberyn to grab him and pull the boy to the ground, shielding him from further fire. Sansa hoped it kept him from seeing their pilot, the sight of the guard, crumpling to the ground, his own gun falling limply from his hand.

He was covered in blood, and his face- his face was _gone_.

Sansa remembered reading an article once about how exit wounds from bullets were horrible, gaping things, sinew torn to shreds by the force of the metal casing ripping through flesh. She had never, in any imagining of her life, thought she would see such a sight, but the shells had torn through the man’s head like it was nothing more than paper. Officers were rushing towards the corpse, and Sansa’s mouth was still open in a silent scream.

A second shot rang out, echoing in the wide hangar. Sansa’s legs buckled, and the next thing she knew, she had hit the ground, Agent Sand covering her with his own body.

“Oberyn!” he shouted, keeping her head shielded. “Get Baelish out-“

Sansa whimpered as a third shot rang out, only Daemon’s mumbled reassurances steadying her as she gripped tightly at his arm. Her other hand was digging into the tarmac, and was beginning to sting- she had scraped it when Daemon had pushed her down, and there was gravel digging into her palms.

“Robin- I need to-“

“He’s fine- he’s safe-“ Daemon reassured her, not letting her go, “Oberyn has him. Oberyn has him, he’s safe!”

“He just- he shot him!” Sansa heard herself stammer.

Oberyn was yelling something as he continued covering Robin’s body, but it took Sansa a few tries to figure out what he was saying.

“A perimeter?” she heard herself say, dazed. “But why-“

“Stay down!” Daemon told her, not letting her up. “Sansa- Sansa you have to stay still. That shot didn’t come from any of us- you could be in danger-“

“But Robin-“

“Oberyn is not gonna let anything happen to your brother- I promise!” Daemon told her, his body still covering most of hers. Sansa was going to have horrible bruises on her knees later.

“There’s so much blood.” Sansa whimpered, clutching his arm. “He shot him- he-“ she choked on a sob as Daemon gave her an alarmed look, “He’s _dead!_ ”

“We can’t help him, Sansa-“ Daemon told her, still restraining her at the same time he held her up. Sansa suspected that if he let go, she’d simply crumple to the ground. “He’s gone- and you need to stay put.”

“But-“ Sansa’s eyes filled with tears, and if they were already tender from crying the night before, the tears leaking from them _hurt._ “But- I need to see- I need to see Robin!”

“Shh- it’s okay.” The agent reassured, as Sansa went limp against the ground, sobbing. “I’ll take you over there as soon as we secure the scene, okay?”

Sansa could only nod, hiccupping and shuddering as the activity around her faded to a dull roar. She couldn’t hear Daemon’s voice anymore, and there were too many people around- too many police officers- and it was setting her even more on edge. Eventually, Daemon helped her up, and she stumbled a bit as the blood rushed back to her legs.

But when Oberyn steered Robin over, Sansa finally shoved herself out of Daemon’s grip, throwing her arms around her brother with a shudder as she combed her fingers through his hair and whispered his name.

“Sansi.” He cried, melting into her embrace as he hadn’t done since he was a child. Sansa could hear him hiccupping and she rubbed slow circles into his back, feeling her own tears subsiding as she soothed him.

_Sansi._

It was an old nickname Robin had for her- father had hated when he used it though, and he had gradually dropped the habit. To see it coming back in full force now was… more than a little disorienting.

She pulled back to look him up and down. He was uninjured, but for a small speck of blood on his forehead, which Sansa discreetly wiped off before he could notice it.

“It’s going to be okay.” She told him, shakily. “I promise.”

* * *

“Straight headshot.” Oberyn muttered, walking over to Daemon after chatting with the responding EMT’s. He had managed to get a near-hysterical Sansa and a furious Robin into a car, and an officer was driving them back to the station now. He was almost positive that they hadn’t been the intended targets- the officer escorting Baelish had been hit, but nothing had come close to Oberyn or his partner when they’d shielded the siblings. “Pilot’s name was Arlan Dothoryos- he died instantly.”

“There were three shots fired, though.” Daemon frowned.

“We’ll have to wait for ballistics to confirm the trajectory of the second and third bullets,” Oberyn muttered, flipping through the preliminary report, “But I’m pretty sure they were intended for Baelish.”

Daemon shook his head.

“Thank god you didn’t call the Starks yet.”

“They have more motive than nearly anyone in the world to want Baelish dead.” Oberyn agreed. “But neither could have possibly known about him yet.”

“Unless we have leak at the police department or in the bureau.” Daemon muttered.

“Baelish is on a lot of people’s lists, but it can’t be a coincidence that he almost gets shot the day we arrest him for the Stark and Arryn kidnappings.” Oberyn muttered. “But you and I both know that Ned Stark would sooner tear Winterfell down, stone by stone, before hiring a hit man.” He didn’t say it, but Oberyn was also sure that if Catelyn Stark had wanted revenge on the man who took her daughter, she would have wielded the gun herself.

“It’s a little early to say whether we’re dealing with a professional.” Daemon pointed out.

“The shot was long distance-“ Oberyn pointed out, “The killer would have had to position himself somewhere that would allow a line of sight- the reeds on the other side of the airstrip are tall enough to conceal a man lying down- it’s what, about 800 feet from the edge of the tarmac to the hangar? That’s well within range for a trained sniper.”

“You think they’ll find a blind in the grass?”

“I’d be surprised if they didn’t.” Oberyn told him, examining the scene more closely. “If the shooter had been any closer, we’d have seen them. He was probably waiting for Baelish and Dothoryos to come back out- we sped up his shot by opening the hangar door to arrest him.”

“He saved us a bit of trouble though- Dothoryos had a gun on him and was ready to shoot you right before he went down.” Daemon commented, kneeling to examine the fallen weapon next to the pilot’s body. “It’s next to impossible to get a firearm in Braavos unless you’re in deep with the local crime syndicates- I’d be willing to bet Baelish was involved with them one way or another. if we can trace where Dothoryos got the gun, we might be able to find a trail that proves it.”

Oberyn snorted.

“I’d be surprised if his tracks weren’t covered there, but it’s worth a try.”

Daemon sighed, deeply, shaking his head.

“We have the bastard in custody, but a hundred more questions than when we began. What the hell do we do now?”

“The only thing we can do.” Oberyn shrugged, clapping his partner on the shoulder as he surveyed the chaos in front of them. “Keep searching for answers.”

* * *

**NOW**

“Sansa?”

Sansa looked up, barely registering the beautiful woman in front of her in the wake of her own exhaustion.

“Sorry-“ the woman apologized, sitting down next to her, “I don’t know if Oberyn mentioned me- I’m Ellaria Sand.”

“His partner.” Sansa nodded, blearily, giving an exhausted smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I wish it was under better circumstances.” The woman admitted, her tone mournful. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m more worried about my brother.” Sansa admitted. “He hasn’t said much to anyone since we came in, and he wouldn’t talk to the officers either.”

“You’ve both had a horrible shock.” Ellaria nodded. “I can’t blame him if he doesn’t want to speak with anyone right now. But how are _you_ doing?”

Sansa blinked, realizing that tears were starting to well up in her eyes again. She frantically blinked them away, trying to refrain from wiping her cheek with the back of her sleeve. Her father- _not your father-_ would have called that bad manners.

“I’m-“ she opened her mouth, but nothing came out, “I- I’m really tired, Ms. Sand.” She blanched. “Or- or Mrs. Martell? I’m sorry- I wasn’t-“

“Ellaria is fine, love.” The woman gave her an understanding smile. “There’s enough that’s confusing right now- let’s not add having to worry about what you call me into the mix.” Sansa nodded, looking at her feet and blushing. “You said you were tired though?”

Sansa realized at that moment, that she would have liked nothing better than to curl up and sleep, right there in the middle of a crowded police station.

“I wanted to call my best friend.” She found herself saying. “But the agents won’t let me talk to anyone yet. Father’s- his arrest hasn’t been made public.” She brought her knees up to her chest, curling in on herself as much as she could. “Our house is a crime scene.” She whispered. “I don’t know where we’re going to go tonight.”

Ellaria gently reached over to smooth Sansa’s hair back in a comforting gesture. Sansa half wanted her to stop- it was such a kind, motherly thing to do, that she felt a fresh wave of tears threaten themselves. The last thing she wanted to do right now, though, was more crying.

“Love, Oberyn called me about that.” She assured Sansa, who was half-shaking with the stress of the day. “You and your brother are going to stay with us for the night if that’s okay. I came to bring you two back to our house.” She looked slightly uncertain. “Is that alright with you?”

Her voice was so earnest and kind that Sansa couldn’t hold back her sobs anymore, and nodded, voice choked up as she thanked the woman through her tears.

“I’m sorry- I don’t mean to burden you-“

“You’re no burden, love.” Ellaria reassured her. The Dornish woman was shorter than Sansa, but the calm in her eyes was infectious, and Sansa felt herself relax, if only marginally. “It’ll be lovely to have some company, and we have plenty of room in the house. Let’s just go and grab your brother, and then we can go back and get you two fed, alright?”

Sansa could only nod, letting herself be led over to Robin, where she did her best to explain to him what was going on. He was silent, but nodded when she asked if he was okay staying with Ellaria, and they managed to get out of the precinct without any major incidents. Robin fell asleep about five minutes into the drive. He’d always been that way- even as a child, Sansa remembered. Motion was soothing to him. She wished it was half as calming for her.

As she stared out the window, watching the lights of the city flicker in the evening fog, Sansa couldn’t even bring herself to wonder what was going to happen next. She didn’t know what would happen to her father next, and she didn’t know how angry Robin would be about it in the morning. She couldn’t muster up the concern for any of it, though. Her father had been arrested, Robin had almost gotten hurt, and Sansa had watched a man die right in front of her- all earlier in the same day. It had been too much.

All Sansa wanted right now was a place to sleep, and the oblivion of her dreams. The next morning would be hell, she was certain, but at least she could have a few undisturbed hours to rest, before the real storm began. She already knew it was going to be rough, and wanted to be as prepared as possible.

Well, as prepared as a person could be, in a situation like this.

She smiled weakly at Ellaria as she helped Robin out of the car, and up the stairs of Oberyn’s townhouse, and when Ellaria showed her to a guest room, she didn’t even wait for dinner before collapsing on the bed and shutting her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn’t plan for this story to be quite so suspenseful or dramatic- but it kind of demanded to be a crime drama/thriller, and I’ve watched a lot of criminal minds with my sister in the last few days. 
> 
> I’m not sure what the hardest part of this was- figuring out how the confrontation was going to happen, writing Baelish, or figuring out general Braavosi geography so that the locations made sense. Bless whoever made a map of it for references. 
> 
> This chapter did NOT want to cooperate with me. I actually moved in the last week, and have been so busy that I haven’t had much time to write, but even then, it was hard to sit down and actually get this part of the story sorted out. I ended up rewriting and scrapping it three separate times. I’m happy with it, though- it came out a lot better than I thought it would. It's considerably longer than intended, but I knew where I wanted to end it, and the middle just got a little unwieldy.
> 
> Petyr is in custody! Robin is angry! Sansa is tired, and Ellaria is a freaking godsend. I don’t think Oberyn realized how angry he was going to get in his confrontation with Baelish until he actually had the chance to get in front of him, but he’s going to have to address that with Sansa at some point. 
> 
> And someone wants Baelish dead- but who? There's a long list of people who dislike Petyr Baelish, and It's going to keep Oberyn and Daemon pretty busy trying to figure out the newest development in the case.
> 
> Thank you all so SO much for your kind words and reviews- their encouragement has literally kept me writing this  
> story, and I'm excited to finish the next chapter. 
> 
> Up next: Breakfast with Ellaria, Ned & Cat get the news, we see how Robin is handling the situation, and we meet Arya and Gendry for the first time! Sansa deals with the complicated emotions surrounding her situation, and we start to see that the Stark kidnapping may just be the tip of the iceberg in a much larger plot.


	5. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout begins for Sansa, Ned and Cat get a life changing phone call, and Tyrion overhears a strange conversation.

“It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try to readjust the way you thought of things.”

― **Lemony Snicket,** **The Reptile Room**

* * *

**WEDNESDAY**

Catelyn Stark was used to her husband’s work keeping him up at odd hours. Clients were sometimes in different time zones, and the type of business that Ned Stark ran didn’t always keep a nine-to-five schedule.

What _was_ odd, though, was the way that Ned’s personal cell kept going off in the middle of the night. He’d rolled over several times, smacking it off before going back to sleep- but it wouldn’t stop ringing.

“Just answer it, Ned.” She murmured, turning to face her sleepy, grumpy husband. “It could be important.”

He muttered something unintelligible back at her, but picked up his cell the next time it rang, swinging his legs over the side of their bed to stand up.

“Eddard Stark speaking.” He answered, only a slight lag in his voice to indicate that they’d been asleep mere minutes ago. He nodded, then jerked awake. “Oberyn?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “Is everything alright? Did something happen to Arya?”

Catelyn sat up at that, nervously looking to her husband. His face was inscrutable, but her relaxed a fraction, so she could likely assume that Arya was fine.

“Good news?” Ned asked, wearily, raising his eyebrows as he met Catelyn’s eyes across their room. “What do you mean?”

Catelyn didn’t know what Agent Martell had just said to her husband, but the blood drained out of his face so suddenly that, if she hadn’t witnessed it for herself, she’d call such a thing impossible. Suddenly, he looked furious.

“Oberyn I swear by the old gods and the new-“ Ned growled, before falling silent again, “It’s not a question of your ability-“ he abruptly stopped talking, and Catelyn got up out of bed, throwing on her bathrobe quickly to go to his side. He looked like he was trying desperately to restrain his emotions, and _that_ couldn’t be good.

“Is everything alright?” she quickly asked, placing a gentle hand on her husband’s arm. When she looked up at him, Ned Stark’s eyes were glassy with tears, and a strange sense of foreboding filled Catelyn’s stomach.

_What if?_

It couldn’t be- but they had never found a body. They had never stopped looking, but there was a part of Catelyn that didn’t want her daughter to be found if all they were going to bring home was bones. Was that- was that what Oberyn was calling Ned about? Or was it a break in Lysa’s case?

She felt her chest tighten, seizing as the implications washed over her. _Had_ they found Sansa?

“You’re sending a picture?” she heard Ned choke out, and her head snapped back up to his face. Her thoughts were racing frantically, and she could hear her own breathing speed up.

“Ned-“ she managed to get out, placing a hand on his face to turn it towards her, “Ned, _please-_ “

“Alright.” She heard Ned say to Oberyn, his voice weak. “I’ll talk to Cat. When should we expect to hear back from you?” he nodded to an answer that Catelyn hadn’t heard, and she felt his shoulders slump. “Please do. And Oberyn-“ he paused, looking down at Catelyn with a hope in his eyes that immediately put her on high alert, “Thank you.”

The gratitude in his voice was palpable, and he dropped the phone away from his ear, locking eyes with Catelyn, who was trembling in anticipation- whether in dread or hope, even she wasn’t entirely sure.

“What was it?” she immediately asked. “Ned-“

“They found her.” Ned looked at her as though he had never seen her before. “Cat- they found Sansa.”

Catelyn’s stomach dropped.

“They found a body?” She managed to choke out, shaking so badly that she couldn’t maintain eye contact with her husband.

“No!” Ned rushed to correct, cradling her face in his hands. “No- Cat-“ a smile began blooming on his face, and it was the most beautiful and most terrifying thing that she had ever seen, “She’s _alive._ Sansa- our daughter- she’s _alive._ ”

“How do you know?” Catelyn managed to say, tears threatening to choke her vision. “How does Oberyn know? _Is he certain?_ ”

Her last sentence was tinged with hysteria as she felt tears running down her face. There had to be a catch. It couldn’t be real.

“Oberyn ran her DNA.” Ned told her, his own tears catching in his dark beard as they ran freely down his face. “He waited for the results to call us. It’s really her- she’s in Braavos.”

“How-“

“I don’t know.” Ned rushed, pulling her into his chest. Both of them were shaking, and she could feel his erratic pulse. “I don’t know, Cat. Oberyn’s sending- he said he would send a picture-“

Catelyn hiccuped, laughing as she cried.

“When?” she managed to ask, pulling back to look at him again. They were both grinning like schoolchildren now, and Ned kept his hand steady on her waist. Catelyn was glad for it- she wasn’t sure her legs wouldn’t give out from under her if he let go.

“He said as soon as he could.” Ned whispered, guiding her over to sit down on the edge of their bed. She leaned over to rest her head against his chest, her heart fluttering with hope and anticipation and the horrible, horrible fear that this would all turn out to be yet another dead end- another false lead.

 _But Ned said they have DNA._ She thought, firmly. _Oberyn wouldn’t lie to us._

Ned’s phone dinged, and Catelyn shot up so fast that she almost slammed her forehead into his chin.

“Is- is that-“ she couldn’t even bring herself to finish her question, her voice was shaking so hard.

Ned opened the text message- it took him three tries to unlock his phone, and Catelyn couldn’t blame him. His hands were trembling so violently that he clicked the wrong message first, bringing up an earlier text from Rickon before he managed to open up what Oberyn had sent.

“Oh my god.” Catelyn sobbed, putting a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god, _Ned._ ”

Ned didn’t say anything, but his breath was hitching as he looked at the smiling girl in the photo- it was a school ID photo for Braavos Central- _her daughter was a student at Arya’s school-_ and Sansa’s red hair was long and gently curled, her eyes sparkling even in the low quality photo. Catelyn tore her eyes away from Sansa’s photo to Ned, whose uneven breathing culminated in a watery sob, a smile on her husband’s face as he broke down and cried, letting Catelyn wrap her arms around him as he shuddered.

If they stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for the next forty minutes, waiting desperately by the phone for Oberyn to call them back with more information, that was between the two of them, and only them.

* * *

Getting off the phone for the second time with Ned and Catelyn Stark, after making plans to get them to Braavos as quickly as possible, Oberyn Martell felt like he had never been more exhausted in his life. He could only ever remember being this tired after his father’s funeral as a child, standing next to a stoic Doran and crying Elia at the gravesite while his mother kissed his father’s casket one last time.

Sansa was likely experiencing some similar emotions, he reflected, thinking about how pale and silent she had been on the drive from the airport. Baelish had been her abductor, but also her parent, and Oberyn knew only too well what it was like to lose a father- much as he hated to think of Baelish that way.

Ellaria had picked up Sansa and Robin from the station last night- it was close to nine o’clock in the morning now- and he hoped that both Sansa and her brother had managed some sleep. Oberyn had woken up Ned and Catelyn- it just about three in the morning in Winterfell, and he wondered whether they had woken Bran and Rickon to give them the news.

Oberyn was ready to pass out on the couch in his office for a few hours, but had one more phone call to make before he could get the three hours of sleep he’d been denied the night before. It certainly wasn’t one he was looking forward to. The deputy director of the WBI had been skeptical of Oberyn’s theory at best, and openly disdainful at worst.

Oberyn was trying to stay professional about it- it was a very personal case for the old man, and when Oberyn had suggested that the Stark and Arryn cases were connected, the insinuation that Lysa Arryn may have been culpable in her son’s disappearance hadn’t sat well with the old grump. He unlocked his phone, thumb hovering over his keypad before he finally groaned, dialing the number.

“Martell, it is four o’clock in the goddamn morning-“ the Blackfish’s irritated voice came through his phone, “You had better have a good fucking reason to be calling at this obscene hour.”

“I found Sansa.” Oberyn told him, deciding to eschew formality. “DNA confirms it. She’s alive, and in Braavos- I got off the phone with Ned and Catelyn just a few minutes ago.”

There was a beat of silence over the line.

“You’ve got to be _fucking_ kidding me.”

* * *

**THURSDAY**

Sansa awoke before anyone in the townhouse, quickly showering and changing her clothes so she could run across town and take her history exam. She had promised to meet Mya on campus half an hour before their exam- she still didn’t know if Oberyn would allow her to say anything to her best friend, but it wasn’t something she could keep from Mya much longer.

She couldn’t bring herself to care about last minute studying for the exam, instead, pulling her sketchbook out of her bag along with a few pencils. Sansa hadn’t had a chance to go back and get the rest of her things, but she almost never went anywhere without a sketchbook, and it was absurdly comforting to sit in the kitchen and just sketch as the rest of the house seemed to wake up.

She was in the middle of doing a few studies of her hands- quick contour drawings that she could distract herself with- when Ellaria came into the kitchen, a fluffy robe wrapped around her. She was lovely, even with sleep mussed hair, and Sansa suddenly felt extremely self-conscious.

“Good morning.” Ellaria greeted, kindly, a tired smile gracing her features. “How did you sleep?”

“Well, thank you.” Sansa lied. “I’m sorry I wasn’t very good company last night.”

Ellaria raised a brow.

“I would hardly expect you to be, after the day you had.” She reminded Sansa, gently. “Besides, your body needed sleep, clearly.” She chuckled. “Oberyn hasn’t even made it back yet- but I trust Daemon to shove him into a cab and send him back when he hasn’t slept in more than 48 hours.”

Sansa managed a small smile. Ellaria was kinder than she deserved- especially considering that Sansa still didn’t feel like she could string a sentence together.

“He’s very devoted to his job.” She commented.

Ellaria snorted.

“That’s a polite way of saying it. I wish all my children were so tactful.” She smiled. “Can I offer you something more than water? Oberyn mentioned you were a tea drinker.”

“He did?” Sansa asked, startled.

“He’s good about small things like that.” Ellaria smiled. “It’s a good trait in a person, especially if they work as much as Oberyn does. I know he’s always going to make an effort, even if he’s busy at the bureau, to remember the small things for me, and for our daughters. You might meet a few of them if they can get out of bed.” She chuckled. “What are you in the mood for, breakfast-wise?”

“Whatever’s convenient.” Sansa gave a tight smile. “Really, please don’t go to any trouble-“

“It’s no trouble, really, Sansa.” Ellaria promised, meeting her eyes. Sansa looked down, sheepish. “I was going to make myself an omelet- would you like one?”

“That sounds fantastic.” Sansa answered, weakly. “I don’t know if Robin is going to make it down before I have to leave, but he has a dairy allergy, and might be a bit picky, so I can put together something he can grab.”

“Obella’s going through a vegetarian phase.” Ellaria told her, smiling. “it’s gotten a bit more vegan than Oberyn and I like, so she doesn’t like having dairy with her breakfast either- it won’t be a problem to put together something that Robin can eat.” She frowned. “You have to leave?”

“I have an exam at 11:00.” Sansa admitted, glancing up at the clock. Still not quite seven yet. “I don’t think we can expect Robin to go to school today, so he might still be asleep when I leave.”

“Teenagers are like that.” Ellaria nodded, clear amusement in her eyes as she set a mug of tea down in front of Sansa.

“Thank you.”

“Sansa, I would never ask you to do anything while you’re here- you’re our guest, after all-“ she smirked, “-but I might just kiss you if you manage to get Dorea to pick up some of your manners.”

Sansa gave her a tired smile.

“Are you sure you’re up to take an exam, though?” Ellaria asked, looking concerned. “I’m sure Oberyn could write you an excuse note if you needed.”

“I’d rather just get it over with.” Sansa admitted. “My best friend is in the same class- I said I’d meet her a few minutes before the exam so we could catch up.”

“Alright.” Ellaria conceded, concern clear in her eyes. “I’ll let Oberyn know- he’ll probably call you to set up a time for you and Robin to come in and start giving statements, but I’m sure it can be put off until tomorrow if you have too much going on.” Her voice very much suggested that she would dig her heels in and refuse to let Oberyn so much as ask Sansa a single question if she wasn’t completely ready for it. Sansa gave her a grateful smile.

“Thank you.” She managed to tell the woman, emotion clouding her voice. “Just- thank you for letting us stay here.”

“It’s your home for as long as you need it, honey.” Ellaria reassured, her dark eyes gentle. “Just make sure you keep taking care of you.”

* * *

Mya took one look at her and instantly enveloped Sansa in a massive hug when they met on campus. Sansa sniffled, trying not to cry as she buried her face in her best friend’s dark hair.

“Okay-“ Mya mumbled, “You’ve gotta tell me what’s up with you, San. You’ve been a wreck all week, you didn’t text me back for like, five hours yesterday, and you look like you didn’t sleep at all last night. What’s going on?” she pulled back, her expression so concerned that Sansa nearly burst into tears right there. “Robin’s okay, right?”

“He’s fine.” Sansa mumbled, looking at her feet.

“Then what’s going on?” Mya asked, her face confused. “Is it that thing with your dad? You mentioned the other day-“

“Just a sec-“ Sansa muttered, glancing quickly around, only to see a few girls from one of her pattern drafting courses walking towards them. Sansa gives a plastic smile and wave when one of them grins at her, before moving over towards an alcove in between buildings. It’s shady and quiet, and there’s a single small bench that she sits down on, her shaking legs glad for the respite.

Mya, of course, has quietly followed her, and gingerly sits next to Sansa on the bench. Sansa leans over, letting her long, loose hair fall to cover her face as she takes a deep breath.

“I didn’t realize how long your hair had gotten.” Mya observes, playfully flicking a lock of it as Sansa huffs. “You usually have it in all those braids and twists.”

Mya’s words are a small respite from her anxiety, and Sansa appreciates it. Her best friend has always had a knack for reading Sansa that no one else had really had. Not Robin, not Myranda, and not her father- not Petyr. Mya knows to give Sansa time to articulate her feelings before barraging her with questions. And isn’t it strange to think about- that the girl sitting next to her knows more about her than a man whose every action had been taken to control Sansa and her life since she was a child.

Sansa knows she shouldn’t go down this path- shouldn’t start thinking about her father- Petyr- whoever the hell he was, but she doesn’t know whether she’s angry or confused, and the whole thing feels like mourning- but with considerably more resentment involved.

For a moment, she’s very vividly reminded of how she felt when Lysa died, but even now it’s far easier to detach herself from the woman who claimed to be her mother than from the man who had pretended to be her father. Sansa doesn’t want to think about what kind of a person that makes her.

“I was too tired for any of them this morning.” She manages to admit, looking up to meet Mya’s concerned eyes. Sansa had always loved her best friend’s eyes- envied the bright, electric blue that riveted people in place when she spoke. Sansa’s eyes were a more subtle shade of blue, toned down and placid.

 _Petyr had green eyes._ She suddenly remembered, feeling sick to her stomach.

“That’s not like you.” Mya gently observes, giving Sansa the space to take a breath and relax. Mya wasn’t going to run. She wasn’t going to tell anyone, and she would wait for information if Sansa asked her to be patient, but Sansa desperately needs to tell somebody, and the words are spilling out of her mouth before she can stop herself.

“They arrested my father.” She confesses.

Mya’s eyes bulge out of her head, near comically, and she actually chokes on the sip of coffee she’s taken. Sansa almost laughs at the picture her friend makes, sputtering and trying to blot coffee off of her shirt before their exam. Her face smooths out though, and there’s nothing but understanding in her eyes, even as Sansa can tell she’s pushing down on her innate curiosity.

“Are you alright?” she asks, softly, as Sansa desperately tries not to let her own tears fall.

“I don’t know.” Her voice is barely a whisper, but Mya hears her well enough.

“Where are you and Robin staying?” she asks, putting a comforting hand on Sansa’s shoulder. “Do you need a place to crash? I’ve still got that spare room-“

“No-“ Sansa sniffled, wiping her eyes. “We’re staying with an agent’s family right now- thanks though.” She gave Mya a watery smile. “I think- I mean- it’s kind of a complicated situation and I can’t really move Robin- and there’s-“

“Whoa-“ Mya held her hands up, interrupting Sansa’s breathless tirade, “-Relax, San.”

Sansa took a bracing breath.

“Sorry.” She muttered, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Mya reassured her, looking a bit hesitant. “So wait- everything you said the other day about your dad being accused of-“

“I can’t tell you yet.” Sansa managed to get out, biting her lip. When she looked up at Mya, her friend seemed to have deflated slightly- her smile just a bit too fixed. “No- it’s not like that, Mya- I promise.”

“No- it’s okay.” Mya reassured her, giving her a small smile. “Sorry. You know how I’m nosy sometimes. I don’t want to stress you out-“

“You’re the opposite of stressful.” Sansa promised, meaning every word. “And I want to tell you what’s going on- really, I do. I just-“ she shook her head, pressing her lips together, “What’s your schedule look like later tonight? Can you come over to Western Bay?” She hoped Ellaria wouldn’t mind. Sansa wasn’t willing to have this conversation anywhere near a public space.

Mya’s eyebrows raised.

“You’re staying there? Damn.”

“It’s impossibly nice.” Sansa shook her head, thinking of the roomy townhouse. “Like you wouldn’t believe. You’ve got to see it for yourself.” She managed a grin, which Mya slowly matched. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you about it- I just-“ she groaned, letting herself slump, “Trust me when I tell you that we can’t let any of this be overheard.”

Mya snorted.

“Okay. You got it. But you’re gonna have to come with me- I don’t know how to get around that fancy neighborhood.”

“Me neither.” Sansa confessed, giving a nervous giggle. Mya laughed right back, and just then, it felt like things might be okay.

Even if she _was_ about to fail her history exam.

* * *

Later, at the police station, after hours of questioning by Braavosi detectives who seemed to believe that Sansa knew more than she was telling them, she was starting to suspect she had jixed herself simply by _thinking_ that any of this was going to be easy. Oberyn had arrived midway through Detective Valman berating her about her father’s apparently questionable tax returns and asked to speak with him outside in the most dangerous tone Sansa had ever heard.

She felt bad for the Detective- he was probably under a good deal of stress from his superiors, and she couldn’t help feeling guilty at her near palpable relief when Oberyn had him removed from the room. She could vaguely hear Oberyn arguing with the man from a nearby interrogation room but was more concerned with her brother at the moment, who was refusing to speak with any of the detectives.

Agent Sand was hovering at the edges of their conversation, and Sansa felt horribly guilty that the man- who had been nothing but kind to her and Robin- had become the misplaced target for Robin’s frustration.

“Come on, Sweetrobin-“ Sansa coaxed, her own voice cracked and exhausted.

“Don’t call me that!” he snapped, shaking her hand off of his arm. Sansa flinched back.

“I’m sorry, Robin.” She said, softly. “I don’t really understand everything right now-“

“They arrested father!” Robin cried, turning to look at her, and there was such confusion and worry in his eyes that Sansa almost cried. She had been afraid of this- afraid that Robin would crumble with their father’s arrest. “And you haven’t done anything to help him!”

“I talked to Agent Martell a bit earlier.” Sansa told him, sadly. “They won’t let either of us see him right now- but he said soon.” She ran a gentle hand through Robin’s hair, and was relieved when he didn’t shrug her off. “Agent Sand wanted to get a DNA sample from you- have you gone with them yet for that?”

“No!” Robin protested, hotly. “I don’t see why I should.”

“It’s-“

“They arrested father!” Robin shouted, drawing sympathetic gazes from all over the police station. Sansa winced. “They shot Arlan! I don’t want anything to do with them!” His voice broke, and Sansa reached over to hug him as she saw tears in his eyes. He pushed her away as a sob escaped his throat, and Sansa’s heart broke for him. “I don’t understand.” He whispered, angrily scrubbing the tears from his face.

“They think that father did some terrible things.” Sansa told him, as gently as she could. “I don’t know the whole truth just yet-“

“Well of course he didn’t!” Robin exclaimed, looking hopeful again. “Sansa, you don’t believe any of that, do you?”

Sansa wanted to fold in on herself. Nothing in the world could have prepared her for this.

“I’m confused.” She admitted. That much was truth. “Robin- you need to consider the possibility that father may be guilty.”

The betrayal on her little brother’s face was clear, quickly twisting into a wicked anger that Sansa did not like.

“How could you think father would do- do anything like they said?” he sputtered, recoiling from her.

“Robin, you don’t even know what they’re accusing father of-“

“He’s our father!” Robin snapped. “What more reason do I need?”

Sansa didn’t know what to say to him.

“You need to listen to the detectives and give them the sample they asked for.” She told him, tiredly. “Robin, you know as well as I do that father can take care of himself. I promise you, I don’t want anything to happen to him-“

“Liar.” Robin spat, crossing his arms like a child. “I don’t believe you. You wanted father gone because he wouldn’t let you take your trip to Volantis alone! And I’m not giving them anything!”

Sansa blinked at him, willing her tears not to fall.

“It doesn’t matter what you think of me.” She told him her voice an exhausted shadow of what it normally was. “They have a warrant to compel your DNA Robin. You can give it to them, or they will take it by force.” She blinked rapidly, standing up. “I’m- I’m going to get something to drink. Agent Sand is going to take you back so that one of their technicians can take a sample from you. If you fight them on this Robin, they can _arrest_ you- do you understand?” she met his eyes, sullen and angry, but hurting bitterly, she knew. He didn’t mean to hurt her- he was just in far more pain than any teenager should have to shoulder. She didn’t know if the Braavosi police would really pursue an obstruction of justice charge against a fourteen-year-old, but she was too exhausted to even risk the possibility right now.

“Listen to me-“ she carefully took his chin, tilting it towards her, and was gratified when he didn’t pull away, “You _cannot_ do anything to help father if you’re in a cell yourself- do you understand?”

After a beat, he nodded, looking down with clenched fists. Sansa leaned forward to gently kiss his forehead, nodding at Daemon Sand, who gestured for her brother to follow him. Sansa watched them leave and willed her knees to keep her standing.

She had forsaken the man who raised them- Robin hadn’t been wrong about that. It was a grim thought, and Sansa felt her stomach twist. He had betrayed her- lied to both of them and stolen her from the life that she should have had. He had probably killed men in the process- he was dangerous, and she didn’t belong with him.

So why did she feel as though she was the one who had done something wrong?

* * *

Sansa perched on the couch in Oberyn’s office after her very public argument with Robin, gingerly wiping her eyes. She had been doing alright this morning when it was just her and Mya, but everything felt like too much right now. To have Robin angry at her was almost more than she knew how to handle, and she desperately tried to hide her splotched face when Oberyn knocked gently at the door, pushing it open with a sympathetic smile.

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.” Sansa sniffed, trying to return his smile and failing dismally. He came over to join her on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I spoke to your parents.” Oberyn told her, gently. “To Ned and Catelyn Stark.”

“I have parents.” Sansa muttered, still somewhat dazed. “I suppose so.”

“They’re taking the next flight out to meet you. They’ll be here on Saturday.”

Sansa pressed her lips together to quell the rise of all the strange emotions that threatened to spill out.

“It’s really real, then?” she whispered, another tear leaking from her eye.

“I’m sorry.” Oberyn told her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I wish it didn’t have to be so hard for you.”

“I don’t know what to say to them.” Sansa shook her head, in dawning horror. This was an avenue she hadn’t considered yet. “I have no idea- I don’t- I’m not- what if I’m not good enough for them?”

“Oh sweet girl-“ Oberyn told her, a sad smile on his face, “You don’t have to be anything but you. That’s all you really need here- Ned and Catelyn are going to be overjoyed to see you after all these years.”

“But- I’m-“ Sansa shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut, “I’m not- Robin’s already so furious with me, and I just- I’m going to make a mess of it, I just _know-_ “

“Sansa.” Oberyn’s voice was stern, and it snapped her out of her head enough to look up at him. “Listen to me. Everything you are? Everything that’s made you into the wonderful girl I met in the coffee shop? The Starks are going to see that, and see you, and love you for it. Everything that you’ve become- it’s going to be _enough,_ Sansa.”

Sansa found herself nodding, sniffling as she tried to discreetly wipe her tears.

“Would it help to know a bit about them?” Oberyn asked, gently. “I’ve gotten to know them quite well over the years, and my sister lives near them, along with my niece and nephews.”

“M-Maybe.” Sansa stuttered, taking a stabilizing breath. “I don’t- I looked them up. Online- that is. I just- I saw the news articles, but I don’t- I don’t even know what their voices sound like.”

It was true. She didn’t remember what they had said, or how they had sounded when saying it. The image of Catelyn Stark, collapsing in a fit of grief- her high, keening wail at the press conference- still haunted Sansa’s dreams, though.

She wanted to call Mya now- the childish part of her didn’t want to wait until later. She wanted to rant and cry and scream to her best friend, but the police still hadn’t released the information to the press yet, and the bureau hadn’t wanted leaks. So Sansa was stuck here, in this dingy, crowded station, surrounded by pitying looks, overzealous detectives, and an angry brother.

Oberyn wasn’t too bad though- although she couldn’t seem to erase the image of his fury from her mind. The look of sheer _poison_ that he had directed at her fath- at Petyr- had terrified her. He looked so earnest now, though, and really had been very kind to her, but there was a small part of her that was still hesitant to fully put her faith in a man who had drawn a gun on Petyr.

“What do you want to know?” he asked, gently, ripping her away from the overwhelming thoughts that had been gathering. She was being silly. Oberyn Martell had saved her brother’s life in that hangar. He had never done anything to make her think that she couldn’t trust him- she just needed to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Anything.” She told him. “Everything. Who- who are they? As people, I mean.”

Oberyn grinned, and settled into the couch further.

“That, I can help you with.”

* * *

“And what about Robin’s father?” she asked, softly, after he had spent almost an hour answering her questions about the Starks. There were so many of them, apparently. Sansa didn’t know how she was going to keep up. “Jon Arryn?”

“I’m planning to call him later today.” Oberyn reassured her. “We just need to let the lab finish running Robin’s DNA to ensure a match.” Sansa must have looked confused, because he hastily continued. “We have to be careful in cases like this- if I were to alert Jon Arryn before we have a confirmation, it could get us in some trouble in court, later.”

“Court.” Sansa repeated, her head spinning. It made sense, but for some reason, she hadn’t thought about a trial yet.

“One of my nephews- Jon- is finishing up with law school at the moment.” Oberyn chuckled. “You’ll likely meet him at some point- they’re very close to the Stark family, and he’s good at translating legal jargon into language that everyone can understand. He should be able to help you out there.” Sansa nodded, absently. She couldn’t think about all that now, or she would falter.

“There’s going to be a trial, then.” Sansa murmured, looking down at her feet. “That’s…”

She trailed off, helplessly.

“We’ll take it one step at a time.” Oberyn reassured. “No need to worry about that yet. Let’s start with small steps.”

“Like what?” Sansa asked, looking up to meet his eyes again.

“You have a younger sister.” Oberyn reminded her. He had told her this already, but the news was still dizzyingly new to Sansa.

“I always wanted a sister.” She managed to answer, absently.

“Would you like to meet her?” Oberyn asked, his voice quiet. Sansa’s head snapped up to him in shock.

“What? How?”

“She’s a student at Braavos Central.” Oberyn told her, giving her a crooked grin. “You may have even seen her on campus before.”

If Sansa got another surprise like this, there was a good chance she was actually going to have an aneurysm. At the very least, the way she was gaping like a fish at Oberyn was _exceedingly_ embarrassing.

* * *

**FRIDAY**

Arya was definitely _not_ holding hands with her boyfriend as they walked down near the wharf after her last final exam, enjoying the late afternoon sun. They definitely weren’t quietly enjoying each other’s company either, because that would have been far too cliché and sappy for either of them. Gendry grinned down at her as they watched a kid run away from his mom, screeching something about ice cream.

“I could use some ice cream myself.” He commented. “Wanna find a place?”

“You’re gonna have all your teeth rot and fall out of your mouth before you’re thirty if you keep eating sugar like this.” Arya retorted, glancing out towards the black and white checked speedboats that were filling the harbor. Police vessels, even if none of them were flashing their lights at the moment.

There had been some sort of disturbance near the airport the day before yesterday- she’d gotten an alert on her phone, although it hadn’t been specific at _all_ \- and there were more police boats in the harbor now than she’d ever seen before. Arya watched one of them pull into a dock, several officers talking quietly to each other in tones she wished she could overhear.

“Yeah, but then you’d have to spoon feed me every meal.” Gendry smirked. “It’d be _romantic._ ”

“I’ll show you _romantic_ you jerk-“

Her phone began buzzing, and she glanced at the caller ID.

“Ugh, sorry- Uncle Oberyn will call eight more times if I don’t answer.” She groaned.

Gendry smirked and poked her side as she glared at him.

“’Sup Oberyn?”

“Are you done with exams for the day?”

“Have been for a while now, and yes, I’m having a lovely afternoon and doing great, thanks for asking.”

“Sorry kiddo.” Arya frowned. There was very little bite to Oberyn’s tone at all- which was unusual- but he did sound energized somehow. “Got bigger fish to fry at the moment. Where are you?”

“Down by the wharf with a friend. Why?” Gendry made a face when she said ‘friend’, and she flicked him on the nose.

“I need to send a boat for you- I need you down at the police station.”

“What?” Arya almost physically recoiled. “Why? Is everything okay? Did something happen to Ned Dayne? My family?”

“They’re all perfectly fine-“ Oberyn assured her, “but this is going to come as a bit of a surprise. We caught a break in a big case a couple weeks ago, and made an arrest the other day- a big one.”

“Who?” Arya asked, frowning. “Does this have anything to do with that thing at the airport?”

“Can’t say about the airport thing.” Oberyn told her, sounding excited. “We brought in Petyr Baelish.”

Arya’s eyes widened.

“Mum’s old friend, Petyr Baelish? The creepy one?”

“Keep your voice down kiddo- it’s not public knowledge yet.”

“Fine, fine-“ Arya muttered, impatiently, “What did he do, then?”

“What hasn’t he done?” Oberyn muttered darkly. “But if you want specifics, you need to know that the two cases he’s been arrested in connection with are the disappearances of Lysa and Robert Arryn, and the Stark kidnapping.”

Arya inhaled sharply, tugging Gendry with her into a quieter alley, where there were far fewer ears to overhear her.

“Uncle Oberyn-“ she began voice only shaking slightly, “Did you find bodies? Is that why you’re calling?” Gendry’s eyebrows shot up into his forehead, and he put an arm around her shoulder, tucking her into his side. Arya would never admit it, but she liked how he was big enough for her to melt into, if she wanted. She rested her head against his chest, anxiety welling up inside of her.

“No.” he assured her, and Arya let out a sigh of relief. “Better, kiddo. I _found_ them.”

“You mean-“

“Your sister and Robert are _alive._ ” Oberyn breathed, voice singing in anticipation. “They’re at the station right now- they were a little shaken up the other day, but they’re fine.”

Arya’s jaw had dropped, and she was sure she looked like a massive idiot, but couldn’t bring herself to care at that moment.

“You’re _fucking_ kidding me- I swear to god, Oberyn Martell- I will sic Aunt Elia on you-“

“I’m not kidding.” Arya immediately shut her mouth. It was more serious than she had ever heard him sound. “Arya, she’s _here_. Sansa is _here_ , right now, and we’ve run the DNA- it’s her and she’s _alive._ ”

He sounded so overjoyed that Arya wished she knew what to say, but her mouth didn’t seem to be working.

“You want me to come to the station?” she finally managed to get out. “You mean like, to meet her?”

“I’ll send a ride for you if you give me your location.”

Arya rattled off the address, and then hesitated, looking up at Gendry.

“We’re keeping silent on the arrest so far-“ Oberyn told her, “complete media blackout, and I know it’s going to be difficult, but you can’t say anything to _anyone_ yet, understand?”

Arya didn’t answer, still slightly stunned.

“ _Arya._ ”

“Sorry Oberyn- don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m not gonna say anything.” She scoffed, sticking her nose in the air. “I’m not Robb or Egg, for fuck’s sake.”

“And thank goodness for it- although if you keep using that sort of language like they do, Catelyn Stark may blame me for it, and I don’t want to be on the receiving end of your mother’s wrath, so cut down on it a bit, kiddo. Boat’s gonna be there in ten- they’ll drop you at the station and we’ll go from there.”

“Yeah, okay.” Arya agreed, a bit numbly. “Sure. Bye.”

She didn’t say anything for a good few minutes, and Gendry rested his chin on her head.

“Everything okay?” he asked, pulling back and looking so genuinely concerned for her that Arya wanted to smack him. And then maybe kiss him. She was a bit jumpy, emotionally, and wanted to say something, even though Oberyn was insisting on absolute secrecy.

She looked up into his face, radiating sincerity and concern in his electric-blue eyes.

Arya made a decision.

“It’s perfectly okay.” She said, feeling a nervous grin grow on her face. Oberyn was going to be pissed off, but that wasn’t exactly new, and Arya could care less. “Actually, better, maybe. My sister- Sansa- Sansa Stark- she’s alive, and Gen- she’s _here._ ”

* * *

“We got ballistics back on the sniper’s weapon.” Daemon announces, tossing a folder onto Oberyn’s desk almost as soon as he ends his call with Arya. “And it’s a doozy.”

“A .22 caliber Scorpion automatic?” Oberyn frowned, reading the investigator’s conclusion. “That’s not a common weapon at _all._ I thought they stopped making those years ago?”

“They’re still manufactured in a few places, surprisingly.” Daemon tells him. “The Ibben military issues them to snipers, and they’re available in certain regions of Sothoryos. Most concerning though-“ he pointed to a note on the file, “They’re standard issue for a certain parts of the Westerosi Marine Forces-“

“Shit.” Oberyn swore. “That can’t be good. You have an agent running down who in Westeros has access to them, then?” Daemon nodded.

“It’s only a few units, and they’re only issued to snipers, so we’ll be able to get a list pretty quickly.” He responded, pulling up another window. “One of our tech analysts is looking into it, but we’ll need access to General Selmy if we want the full list without any redactions. Can you put in a request with the Deputy Director?” Daemon asked, looking up, tiredly. “Tully knows the General personally, and I don’t want to have to file a formal injunction to get the information if that’s what it comes down to.”

“They’ll stonewall us if we aren’t careful.” Oberyn agreed “The politics of the situation have the potential to get messy, but finding his grand-niece and nephew seems to have netted me some credit with the Blackfish. I’ll talk to him about it.”

Daemon nodded in relief.

“I think it’s worth running down the other possibilities here, though.” He told Oberyn. “Baelish has a lot of enemies- we can’t rule out someone who got their hands on that particular rifle illegally.”

“How easy are they to get ahold of on the black market?”

“I’ve got another analyst tracking that down.” Daemon assured him. “Ballistics think the gun was modified- it ripped through Dothoryos’ skull with way more force than you’d expect from a typical Scorpion make- usually, you don’t see exit wounds quite that large with them.”

“We’re definitely dealing with a professional, then.” Oberyn muttered, staring at the picture of the bullet they’d had to pry out of the tarmac. He’d figured, but a modification of an already complex weapon was all but confirmation of a professional hit. “Someone with the means to get ahold of a relatively regulated piece of equipment, and the know-how to make it even more deadly.”

Daemon nodded.

“No luck on tracing Dothoryos’ gun yet- serial number was filed off, so he was probably involved in a local syndicate. The chief of police sent a few of his own officers to follow that particular lead, but they haven’t made much progress yet. It might give us more insight into Baelish’s criminal record, but I would doubt that we’re going to find our sniper that way. If he’s a professional, and not a gang member, that certainly complicates things.”

“No shit.” Oberyn snorted. “A contracted kill increases our suspect pool exponentially. Figuring out who hired the gunman, as opposed to simply finding the bastard himself.”

“I knew that nothing about this case was going to be easy when I was assigned to work with you.” Daemon shrugged. Oberyn chuckled.

“You’re not wrong, there.” He told the younger man, still reading through the report. “I heard from Arianne this morning- she says hello.”

Daemon’s face was suddenly bright red, and Oberyn gave him a gleeful grin.

“That’s nice of her.”

“We’ll be back in Westeros soon enough-“ Oberyn pointed out, “You two could give it a try again.”

“She broke up with me over more than just distance.” Daemon muttered, decidedly not looking at Oberyn. “Besides, if she wants to talk to me, that’s her call. She was pretty clear about not wanting to hear from me the last time we spoke.”

He blushes again, and Oberyn throws his head back and laughs.

* * *

“What do you mean, you _handled_ it?”

Tyrion froze as he stepped off the elevator at Lannister Enterprises. He was supposed to be meeting Jaime for lunch, but his brother was late, and neither he nor Cersei were answering their phones.

“I told you, father, I-“

Well that explained where Cersei was. Odd though- usually, when you couldn’t get in touch with Jaime, it meant he was with their sister.

“What you’ve just _told_ me-“ their father hissed, “-is not information that we should be discussing here.”

“But father-“

“I said _later_ Cersei!” Tywin Lannister hissed, as Tyrion walked through his office door. He turned his gaze to his youngest son, and Tyrion’s eyes widened ever so slightly. It had been a long time since he had seen their father this angry- there was a visible vein in his neck, and his green eyes were blazing. “What do you want?” he snapped, looking down at Tyrion.

“Lovely to see you as well, father.” He responded, raising his eyebrows. “Charming, as usual, Cersei.” She simply sneered at him, crossing her arms. “I’m looking for Jaime- he was supposed to meet me for lunch.”

“He’s taking Tommen to a doctor’s appointment.” Cersei snapped.

“Last minute, then, I presume.” Tyrion sighed, glancing down at his watch. “Very well then, do me a favor and let him know he needs to stop screening his calls when you reach him then.”

There was an awkward beat of silence before Tywin Lannister sighed.

“Leave.” He commanded. “Both of you.”

“We haven’t finished our conversation.” Cersei replied, mulishly.

“As far as I am concerned, it is _over_.” Tywin snapped, turning his fearsome gaze on his daughter. Tyrion snickered as she winced. “I have several meetings this afternoon- all of which are more important than whatever problems my _adult_ children are experiencing-“ he spat, “and I need to discuss a few of our Northern investments with Roose Bolton before my _own_ lunch hour is over. Out! Both of you!”

Tyrion frowned as he turned to leave, a sneering Cersei at his heels. There had been a split second when he mentioned Roose Bolton that Tywin Lannister had looked at Cersei with the sort of abject hatred and fury he typically reserved for his youngest son. Cersei’s marriage to King Robert Baratheon had paved the way for Tywin to nurture several incredibly lucrative business relationships, and Tywin typically allowed many of his daughter’s more foolish actions to slide in ways that he would never _dream_ of granting Tyrion.

He wondered what on earth Cersei could have done to invoke their father’s wrath like that.

“After you, your highness.” He gave a mock bow as the elevator doors opened.

“Freak.” Cersei spat, storming past him to slam on the elevator buttons.

 _What indeed?_ Tyrion mused, smirking at the way Cersei’s anger aged her about ten years.

_What indeed…._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The good news here is that part of the reason this chapter took so long to get out was that I kept getting distracted by writing the next chapter. So that update will be much quicker than a two-week turnaround. Sorry about that, folks. Life happens, and it decided to throw massive selective writer’s block my way the past two weeks. 
> 
> But here it is!! And I hope you all enjoy this latest update, because I’m enjoying writing it. We have Ned and Cat! And Oberyn calling the Blackfish! (who is the deputy director of the WBI- everything is largely based on U.S. law enforcement). Sansa is still trying to figure things out, Ellaria is lovely, Mya is a REALLY good friend and will continue to be, Robin is struggling (but he’s being a brat in a very sympathetic way don’t worry he’ll get better), and Arya and Gendry finally show up! I hope I do them justice- I think they’re adorable. 
> 
> I love writing Oberyn and Sansa’s dynamic, and we get some hints about Jon in this chapter. He is ACTUALLY in the next chapter, and will feature heavily in the one after that, so again, apologies for all the exposition. I accidentally ended up with a pretty big ensemble cast and they’re all demanding plot. 
> 
> Next time, we’ll see Oberyn questioning Sansa about Baelish a bit more, Sansa’s going to start really seeing some of the inconsistencies in her relationship with Baelish, and she’s going to MEET ARYA. Which I’m excited about, because the next chapter is actually what I wrote first for this story, weirdly enough. We’ll also be meeting Jon and Robb for the first time! 
> 
> Thanks so SO much for all of your kind words and comments- they really motivate me, and help me plow through writers block. All of you who wrote me an essay in the comments: you’re literally the best humans on the planet. Keep being awesome and thank you so much!!!


	6. Super Trouper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blackfish has an interesting conversation with Oberyn, Sansa is hanging in there despite all of the questions getting thrown her way, and the Stark sisters have a very eventful dinner.
> 
> -
> 
> Across the Narrow Sea, Jon experiences a rather rude awakening, and has his world turned upside down.

“Because traumatic life events invariably cause damage to relationships, people in the survivor’s social world have the power to influence the eventual outcome of the trauma. A supportive response from other people may mitigate the impact of the event, while a hostile or negative response may compound the damage and aggravate the traumatic syndrome. In the aftermath of traumatic life events, survivors are highly vulnerable. Their sense of self has been shattered. That sense can be rebuilt only as it was built initially, in connection with others.”

**\- Judith Herman, Trauma and Recovery**

* * *

**FRIDAY**

“Yes I know it’s risky-“

“You’re damn right it’s risky.” The Blackfish hissed, causing Oberyn to wince and pull his phone away from his ear. “That’s my _grand-niece_ you’re talking about, Martell. Not just some mob floozy you can use as _bait_.”

“Agent Sand and three other agents had eyes on her the entire time she was out of the house yesterday.” Oberyn assured him, trying to keep his voice calm in the wake of Brynden Tully’s anger.

When they had arrested Baelish on Wednesday, Sansa had mentioned an exam she had to take the next day, and had come the closest Oberyn had ever seen to actually arguing with him. She was interesting that way- there was something steely under her skin, despite her often sweet words, and Oberyn had never seen someone more determined to attend an exam before. _He_ certainly wouldn’t have been.

Figuring that Sansa was going to go whether he wanted her to or not, he had arranged a protective detail for her without her knowledge. If they happened to catch any of Baelish’s associates trying to follow Sansa in the process, then so be it. Apparently, though, one of the field agents had tipped the deputy director off to Oberyn’s plan.

Heads might roll if he ever found out which one.

“Even _while_ she was taking her exam?” the Blackfish snapped.

“ _Yes_.” Oberyn groaned. “For fuck’s sake- do you really think I would risk one of Baelish’s cronies getting their hands on Sansa after everything Ned and Catelyn have been put through? After everything _Sansa’s_ been through? I had an agent audit the exam.”

“It was an unnecessary risk.”

“Yeah, maybe it was.” Oberyn snapped. “But goddamnit, listen to me, Tully. It wasn’t my intention at _all_ to use Sansa as bait.” It was largely true. It hadn’t been his intention, but he couldn’t deny it gave them an opportunity that they would be stupid to miss. The deputy director would probably agree with him, if the case weren’t so damn personal.

The old man went silent on the other end.

“Oberyn, my niece and her family have been through more than anyone should ever have to.” The old man huffed. “I was the one who called Cat today to tell her and Ned that Lysa- that her _sister_ \- played a pivotal role in keeping Sansa from her.” his voice was almost shaking, with a strain that Oberyn had never heard. “I apologized to Cat for ever bringing Baelish into our lives- for _ever_ trusting him- and you know what she did?” he barked out a grim laugh. “She fucking _forgave_ me, Martell. I bring this scum into a position where he gets to ruin my family, and she tells me it wasn’t my fault.”

There was only heavy breathing on the other line, and Oberyn passed an uncomfortable moment wondering if Brynden Tully was crying.

“Director-“ he began, only to be cut off by Tully’s gruff voice.

“Don’t even think about saying whatever platitudes you think I want to hear.” He told Oberyn. “I’m not looking for anything from you, except that you keep my grand-niece and nephew _safe_.”

“Then let me keep doing that.” Oberyn told him, his tone more measured this time. “Listen, Tully- Sansa is doing an admirable job of keeping herself together right now and, honestly? I don’t know how.” He shook his head. “She’s calm, she’s even-keeled, and she held her own yesterday with Valman at the station trying to use her to make his own goddamn career.”

“You took him off the case?” Tully barked. “I’ll personally call the Chief of Police if we need.”

“I talked to him yesterday about Valman’s conduct, but it might help if you greased the wheels there.” Oberyn admitted. “Your office carries more weight with him.”

“Done.” Tully agreed, instantly. “I’ll have a few words with him, and remind him that the Westerosi press will have no trouble crucifying him for any missteps here. You said Sansa’s doing okay, though?” His voice was almost anxious, and it was such a strange thing to hear from the usually gruff man.

“On the outside, she is.” Oberyn told him. “She’s doing her best to help Robin adjust- and no, he won’t answer to Robert, so it’s not a battle we’re going to fight here- but she’s been very restrained.” He paused for a moment. “I think she processes internally- that there’s a lot more going on in her head than we realize. She’s smart, Tully.” He chuckled. “You’ll be astonished at how much so when you meet her. But I think she’s clinging to what’s normal- and she was _hell_ bent on getting to that test.”

“And so you let her.” the Blackfish muttered.

“I’d do it again.” Oberyn baldly stated. “She’s going to crack and break down at some point, but I’d like to disrupt her life as little as possible. It was a piece of something normal. Once this news breaks, normal is going to be a thing of the past for both of them- but Sansa’s case was _infamous_ back home.” He sighed. “I need you to trust me on this, Tully. You and I may have our differences, but I do have eight daughters, and I know a thing or two about psychology- I’m not going to stress Sansa out more than absolutely necessary right now, alright?”

There was a long silence on the other end.

“Has anyone taken a statement from her?” the deputy director asked. “Questioned her at all?”

“Unfortunately, that’s the necessary part.” Oberyn winced. “But I’m not letting Valman near her again- I’m planning to do both later today.”

“Be careful with her.” the Blackfish warned.

“You know I will.”

“But Martell?” the man’s voice was quieter than usual. “Get enough from Sansa to nail that bastard to the wall.”

* * *

Sansa was exhausted, even after sleeping for ten hours the night before. The Braavosi police had questioned her yesterday- one of the detectives had spent the better part of two hours all but accusing her of having been complicit in her father’s- in Petyr’s scheme. Oberyn had read him the riot act, screaming at the man in front of the entire precinct, but it had left Sansa drained- especially after facing Robin’s anger in the same day.

She had almost fallen asleep at the dinner table in front of Ellaria and her children, blushing when Obella shook her shoulder, apologizing to the others, but Ellaria had been very kind about everything, and hadn’t been irritated at all. Sansa had apologized again, trudging upstairs to the guest room that had been set up for her. Robin had spent the night shut in his own guest room, and hadn’t been any more willing to talk to her on the ride over to the police station that morning. She understood, but it still stung.

 _Today will be easier_. She told herself, putting one foot in front of the other as she walked up the steps into the precinct. Oberyn and Daemon were going to be questioning her and Robin today- and she liked both of them _far_ better than the Braavosi detectives- both of whom had seemed determined to use the arrest to bolster their own careers.

And Robin seemed to like Daemon Sand- or tolerated him, at least. He had been quieter after his conversation with Daemon yesterday, and far less outwardly aggressive than he was towards Oberyn, who he seemed to blame for the whole situation. Sansa’s shoulders drooped as she thought about Robin’s behavior towards the man who had opened his home to them, and it was hard to take the last few steps into the station. At least Robin was polite to Ellaria, though. Sansa would have had to put her foot down if he had glared at their hostess the same way he did Oberyn.

“Do you want anything to drink before we get started?” Daemon asked them, kindly.

“If it’s not too much trouble, some tea would be lovely.” Sansa answered, looking to her brother. “Robin, do you want anything?”

“No thanks, Agent Sand.” Robin shook his head, looking down at his feet. Sansa’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head at the polite response, and she felt a wave of relief wash over her.

“Tea shouldn’t be too hard.” Daemon smiled warmly at Sansa, gesturing her towards one of the soundproof interrogation rooms. “You’re with my partner, Sansa- he should be in soon- and Robin, you’re with me today.”

Sansa watched her brother nod, and follow Daemon to the room he’d indicated. Daemon turned back to face Sansa.

“Sansa, you’re welcome to wait for Oberyn wherever you want- I’ll be right back with some tea for you after I get your brother settled.”

She nodded, sitting down on one of the benches outside the interrogation rooms. Only a few of the Braavosi police officers actually knew the truth of their case- the WBI was keeping a tight lid on everything- so most of the officers didn’t spare her a second glance.

* * *

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Sansa.” Oberyn grinned, apologetically, opening the interrogation room door and gesturing her in. “Detective Valman and I were having a few words with the chief of police- he’s not going to be involved in the case going forward.”

Sansa felt a twinge of guilt as she sat down. She hadn’t wanted the man to lose his job over the case- she’d just wanted a break from his accusations.

“It’s no problem.” She told him, clutching the paper cup of tea that Daemon had brought her in her hands.

“How are you holding up?” Oberyn asked, sympathy clear in his eyes. “Ellaria mentioned that you were pretty tired last night.”

Sansa blushed at the reminder.

“It’s been a lot.” She admitted. “But nothing I can’t handle. I’m more worried about Robin- but he seems to be doing alright with Daemon.”

“As opposed to me.” Oberyn nodded. “Can’t say it surprises me- I’m the one who put Baelish in handcuffs, after all. Are my children making you feel welcome?”

“Oh of course!” Sansa assured him. “Obella’s been lovely- and Dorea and Loreza are very sweet- they invited me to their school chorus concert.”

“Ah!” Oberyn grinned. “They’ve been excited about that for a month now. I told my boss that if I didn’t get the night off, I was going to turn in my badge right then and there. I hope you won’t feel obligated, though. They know you’re busy.”

Sansa forced a smile. She had sung in her high school choir, but Petyr hadn’t been one for school events- even after Lysa’s death.

“I’d enjoy it.” She told him, honestly. 

Oberyn gave her a long look.

“What?” she asked, feeling self-conscious.

“I’m sorry, Sansa.” He apologized, shaking his head. “You’re just very selfless and terribly kind for someone whose world is getting turned over.”

Sansa gave another weak smile, unsure of what to say to that. Oberyn seemed to understand, though, giving her a reassuring grin.

“Ready to get started?”

“Sure.” She lied.

* * *

“When did Lysa pass away?” Oberyn asked, looking over his list of questions. For now, Sansa was helping him create a rough timeline of events that Oberyn was hoping to use at Baelish’s trial. “I’m sorry- I remember you mentioning it at our first meeting, but the time frame escapes me.”

“Five years ago.” Sansa told him. “I was fifteen.”

“How did she pass away?” Oberyn asked. “I’m sorry- I know this is just another intrusive question atop a mountain of them.”

“We weren’t particularly close.” Sansa shrugged, looking down uncomfortably. “She was much closer to my brother. To Robin.”

Oberyn suspected that there was a lot buried behind that particular sentiment, but simply nodded, jotting down a few notes.

“ESRD.” Sansa said, giving a grim smile. “End stage renal disease- she had issues with her blood pressure, and she was a decently heavy drinker for a while. I know she had a lot of infections leading up to it- she spent about six months on dialysis before she died.”

“Do you remember her physician’s name?” Oberyn asked. “We’ll just need to get the records for our timeline.”

“Dr. Colemon.” Sansa told him, with complete certainty. “He was- he was very kind to Robin and I.”

“Did he ever suggest a transplant?”

“She wasn’t eligible.” Sansa told him, her mouth twisting a bit. “She had some prior drug use that disqualified her here, legally.”

Oberyn frowned. It sounded like something of a sore spot, but from what he knew of the Braavosi healthcare system, it seemed entirely plausible, if odd. He’d have to interview Dr. Colemon at some point to check up on that.

* * *

“Tell me about Lysa.”

“What specifically?” Sansa asked, after a pause.

“Well,” Oberyn continued, “You told me that you weren’t close. Can you elaborate on that at all?”

Sansa swallowed, nervously.

“She wasn’t terribly affectionate towards me.” She managed to get out. “Not unless I was doing something for Robin.” She paused. “She was- she was a complicated woman.” She told him, looking down a bit. “But she was kinder- calmer, right before she died.”

“I’m listening.” Oberyn reassured her when she paused.

“There’s not much more to it.” Sansa said, so softly he almost didn’t hear her. “Just that. She was complicated. That’s all.”

* * *

“Why don’t we take a short break.” Oberyn suggested, gently, after they didn’t have much luck with identifying her father’s associates. They’d been chatting for several hours. Sansa seemed frustrated that she couldn’t remember more, and Oberyn kept reassuring her that it hadn’t been her job to pay attention to Baelish.

If he got a hold of Valman, he was going to strangle the detective for putting those ideas in her head- for making her feel guilty because she hadn’t managed to see through a man who, from all accounts, was a master manipulator.

“I’m sorry.” Sansa murmured to him, looking guiltily up as he stood. “I’m sorry I can’t help more.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Oberyn reassured her, something in his face softening as he took in her dejected form. “You've been fantastic, Sansa. Here- I’ll go grab you some more tea, and there are a few bagels in the break room if you want to get one to snack on. Daemon usually keeps cream cheese in the fridge, as long as the detectives haven’t eaten it all.” He made a face, and actually pulled a small smile from Sansa.

 _Thank god._ Oberyn thought to himself, relieved that she hadn’t completely shut down yet. He was impressed- she was holding up relatively well, all thing considered. Granted, he really wasn’t looking forward to the conversation they would have to have in a few minutes.

He hoped like hell that both of them were up for it.

* * *

“Sansa….” Oberyn began, looking genuinely contrite after they returned from their break. “You’ve held up really well, but I do need to ask you about one more thing.”

Sansa’s stomach dropped, and she felt sick.

“Did he ever make any sort of sexual advance on you?” Oberyn asked her gently. Sansa pursed her lips, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head.

“Never.” She whispered, the very thought _beyond_ repulsive to her. She was sure her face had completely drained of blood- she had been expecting the question at some point, but that hadn’t helped prepare her for it. “I don’t- he never treated me like that.” Her face flushes in embarrassment, welling up deep inside of her.

 _This is what people are going to assume._ She thought, feeling suddenly dizzy. _That I was his victim, and nothing else._

Sansa was suddenly _deeply_ grateful for Oberyn Martell, who had calmly taken her shaking hand in his own. His palms were dry and warm, and his eyes were kind, anchoring her as the ramifications of the investigation began to set in. The realizations of what people would think happened to her. Was it not bad enough that Petyr had lived in her father’s skin for eighteen years? That he had tricked her into loving him as a parent?

“Sansa?” he asked, gently. “Are you alright? We can stop- take a break if you need.”

Sansa remembered, then, that Oberyn Martell had eight daughters. Remembered Ellaria’s kind, perceptive gaze every time she looked at Sansa.

 _You can trust him._ Her mind whispered. _He’s never lied to you before, and he won’t let anyone take advantage of you, now. He practically ripped the detective apart when he began insinuating that I knew more than I was telling him._

“I’m sorry.” She told him, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just- that’s what everyone is going to assume, aren’t they?” she sounded small and pathetic, even to herself.

“That depends.” Oberyn told her, not letting go of her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “You’re completely in the driver’s seat here, Sansa.”

She gave a weak, forced laugh.

“I never learned how to drive.” She admitted. Oberyn gave her a fond look.

“What I mean, _smartypants_ ,” he gently teased, “Is that you get to make that decision. What you want the public to know. What comes out during the trial.” He paused, looking her straight in the eye. “What you want to tell Ned and Catelyn, even.”

“I thought you were going to give them the case file.” Sansa frowned, confused. Oberyn shook his head.

“I think that decision is up to you.” He told her, his warm voice a balm to Sansa’s agitated nerves. “What Baelish did to you was horrible, even if he isn’t specifically the type of predator people are going to assume he was.”

“I trusted him.” Sansa admitted, sniffling a bit. She tightened her grip on Oberyn’s hand, and it felt like her only, tenuous link to reality. “I- I loved him.” She admitted, letting tears fall down her face at the thought that she hadn’t vocalized. “I- I thought he was my father.” She whimpered, feeling her face crumple.

“I’m sorry.” Oberyn told her, his face open, and honest, and _anguished._ “I’m sorry that he betrayed that trust Sansa. I can’t imagine how that must feel.”

Sansa nodded, and then, with a shuddering breath, just crumpled, folding in on herself with silent sobs. Oberyn was immediately by her side, his face so full of concern that it prompted a fresh batch of sobs to bubble up from Sansa’s chest.

She knew she was selfish to make other people worry about her like this, but she just couldn’t stop herself from clinging onto Oberyn as he wrapped her in his arms, humming something soft and reassuring as she shook. He probably did this sort of thing for his daughters all the time when they were upset- held them, let them cry, told them everything was going to be okay.

Everything a father was probably supposed to do. It was just so _alien_ to Sansa that it only made her cry harder. Ultimately, though, she managed to calm down, and Oberyn pulled back, sitting himself on the floor in front of her, his arm draped casually over his leg.

“I’m-“

“You are not allowed to apologize to me, Sansa.” Oberyn told her, raising an eyebrow. There was humor in his voice though, and it made something in Sansa relax. “But I may need to apologize to you.”

“What?” Sansa’s head shot up.

“You’re aware that the Starks have another daughter?” Oberyn asked her, looking sheepish when Sansa nodded.

“I don’t remember her name, but she was younger, right?” Sansa sniffled.

“Arya.” Oberyn nodded. “I spoke to her earlier.”

“Is she- is she _here_?” Sansa asked, confused.

“She’s actually a student at BCU.” Oberyn grimaced, slightly. “She’s actually headed down here, but I called her to talk before we had our conversation just now.” He tilted his head, looking genuinely concerned. “I do need to chat with her about a few things here, but you _absolutely_ don’t need to meet her now if it’s too much for today-“

But Sansa was already shaking her head, determined.

“No-“ she protested, a small spark of hope flickering in her chest, “I’d like to. She’s coming here?” There was anxiety welling up in her chest, but it was eclipsed by the sudden thought- the _thrill_ \- of a _sister._

“Yes, but she’s not going to be upset at all if you don’t want to-“

“I want to.” Sansa cut Oberyn off, gently, sniffling a bit as she thought about it. “When is she going to be here?”

She could do this one thing right today. She could _do_ this.

* * *

Oberyn just sighed, smacking his hand against his forehead when Arya Stark strolled into the station, a tall boy with a shock of black hair behind her giving him a sheepish smile. Jory met his eyes, shaking his head as if to say ‘ _what can you do?’_

“I thought we agreed not to tell anyone?” he asked, pointedly, nodding his head towards the boy, who looked appropriately embarrassed. Arya just stuck her tongue out.

“It’s just Gendry.” She told him, crossing her arms. “Besides, you _did_ say that you wanted to meet my boyfriend.”

“I didn’t mean in the middle of an investigation.” Oberyn tried to resist the urge to grin, failing miserably. “Does your mother know?”

“Jon and Rhae do.” She pouted, looping her arm into the boy’s- Gendry’s- arm.

“Oh so Catelyn Stark _doesn’t_ know yet!” Oberyn crowed, crossing his own arms and leaning back to look down at the girl. Gendry was easily as tall as Oberyn, but Arya Stark definitely took her short stature from the Tully side of the family, and was at least six inches smaller than her shortest brother, although Lyanna was on the shorter side as well. It tended to make the Stark family Christmas card photo hilarious- he couldn’t wait for her to see that Sansa took after Ned in terms of height.

“Mom’s still annoyed about Talisa- what’s Gendry done to be thrown to the wolves?” Arya snorted. “I’ll introduce them when they get here- they’ll forget to be annoyed about Gendry once they meet Sansa.”

“Smart.” Oberyn chuckled. He wasn’t entirely fooled, though. Arya’s grip on her boyfriend’s arm was tight, and her mouth was set in that stubborn way that he recognized from when Lyanna was upset. He couldn’t blame her if she was- it was one hell of a situation. “Speaking of which, she’s in my office right now.”

“I get to meet her?” Arya asked, eyes widening in a rare display of vulnerability from a girl that Oberyn knew was tough as nails.

“Of course.” He reassured her, relaxing his own posture with his hands on his hips. “And she’s eager to meet you too. Just remember- she’s been through a hell of a few days- poor kid got up to take an exam this morning, after we arrested Baelish- who was passing himself off as her father- yesterday.”

Arya had started to walk forward, but stumbled slightly.

“He did _what?_ ”

Oberyn winced. He would need to bring her up to speed so that she didn’t overwhelm Sansa with questions.

“Let’s chat then, before you meet Sansa, alright? She’s having a bit of a rough week, and I think it would be best if we were gentle with her.”

* * *

Arya’s first impression of the girl who was apparently her sister was that she was almost _inhumanly_ pretty. The second was that she looked as though she had been crying, and the third was that she was _still_ just as pretty with a red, splotchy face.

She pushed down the brief insecurity that flashed over her when she realized exactly how similar Sansa looked to her mother- _their_ mother- and knocked on the door, gently. Jory and Gendry were sitting uneasily in the waiting room- Jory, the only member of the Stark security team that had accompanied Arya to school- had been nearly as anxious as she had on the drive over, after she had gotten the call from Oberyn Martell, and had a frantic five minute conversation with her mother and father before they had to board their plane.

Her nerves felt completely shot. Jory and Gendry were waiting out in the bullpen, while Oberyn’s partner led Arya over to Oberyn’s office.

The Red Viper himself appeared to be comforting the girl, with a hand on her shoulder, and soft murmured words. Arya saw the girl nod, and then look up, her face immediately looking confused, and then hopeful, and then shuttered to a cool politeness. Arya opened her mouth, but nothing came out. All she could hear was her heart pounding frantically in her chest. She was saved from gaping like a fish by Oberyn’s next words.

“Arya, come in.” he greeted, giving her the same broad smile that she was used to from Aunt Elia. “We’ve been waiting for you- Sansa, this is Arya Stark. Arya, Sansa.”

The red-haired girl- Sansa- her _sister_ \- gave her a small smile.

“It’s nice to meet you.” She said, standing up, despite Arya’s protests that she didn’t need to, and offering Arya her hand. “I’m sorry- I’m a bit of a mess right now, but I really do mean that.” Her smile was soft and genuine, despite her red eyes and nose.

“Oh- yeah, of course.” Arya managed, mentally kicking herself. She sounded like Gendry, the stupid lug. “Uh- it’s nice to meet you too.” Sansa’s watery smile widened, and she looked so hopeful that Arya didn’t have a clue as to what to say.

“So, we’re sisters, I guess?” she managed, promptly kicking herself at how stupid she sounded. Sansa didn’t seem to mind though, and simply nodded.

“Agent Martell told me you went to BCU as well- what are you studying?”

“International relations.” Arya told her, sitting down at the small table when Oberyn gestured for her to.

“I’m going to get Sansa some tea- Arya, do you want anything?” he asked.

“Coffee would be awesome.” She grinned, weakly at him. “Thanks Oberyn.” He nodded, smiling at the two before he shut the door, leaving them alone.

“That sounds pretty interesting.” Sansa responded, smiling weakly, discreetly wiping her eyes with manners Arya could never hope to emulate. Oddly, it reminded her of her mother. Their mother. Gods, what a mess. “What made you decide on that?”

“Couldn’t figure out what else I wanted to do.” Arya shrugged, feeling sheepish at her answer, but Sansa was smiling and nodding encouragingly. Seven hells- she felt like she should be the one trying to make this girl more comfortable- not the other way around! “What about you then- what do you study?” she asked, watching Sansa brighten a bit.

“Fashion design and merchandising.” She answered, actually looking enthusiastic for the first time during their meeting. “I would love to get to see King’s Landing fashion week sometime- but father hasn’t wanted me to leave-“ she immediately cut off, looking stricken as she clapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m- I’m sorry. Of course he’s not- I mean- Petyr-“

“It’s fine.” Arya tried to sound comforting, but winced when her voice came out harsh and cutting. “I mean- don’t worry about it. It’s gotta be kind of confusing.”

“I’m sorry.” Sansa lowered her head, shaking it and looking like she was holding back tears again. “I’m ruining things again. I’m sure this can’t be easy for you-“

“For me?” Arya interrupted, incredulously. All of her earlier nerves seemed to have disappeared, replaced by a single-minded need to keep Sansa from crying any more. There was just something so completely vulnerable about this girl, at the way she held her head and spine straight while her world shattered.

Arya remembered watching a video in the astronomy class she’d taken with Lommy and Hot Pie- a film about dying stars- supernovas- and all of that energy folding in on itself as the star collapsed. Sansa was every inch as beautiful as a supernova, but thinking of Sansa collapsing left a pain in Arya’s chest. So, naturally, she opened her mouth, and said something incredibly stupid.

“You’re kidding, right? I’m not the one who just found out that her entire life was-“ she broke off, wincing.

“A lie.” Sansa nodded. “It’s alright- you can say it.” She paused, giving Arya a hint of a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’d rather not dance around it, anyways. It’s- I just don’t really know what to feel.” She admitted, wiping a tear from her cheek again. Fortunately, Oberyn picked that moment to reappear, handing Arya and Sansa both to-go cups.

“Thank you.” Sansa told the agent, who gave her a brilliant smile, and clapped her on the shoulder.

“Of course.” He said, as though the entire situation was normal. “Are you girls hungry? We can go grab some dinner out- the press doesn’t have a hold of the story yet, so we’re still anonymous as could be.”

“Starving.” Arya answered, ravenously. “You?” she directed towards Sansa, who looked a bit confused.

“I- I guess.” She responded, looking uncertain. “Agent Martell, where is Robin? He didn’t talk to me at all after his conversation with Agent Sand, and I-…” she trailed off, looking miserable.

“He’s heading over to stay with Ellaria and the girls.” Oberyn was quick to reassure her. “I’m sorry- I asked Daemon to let you know, but he must have gotten caught in something. We have a police detail on the townhouse, though- he’s perfectly safe, just working through a few things.”

Sansa let out a sigh of relief, and Arya noticed that she had circles under her eyes.

“That’s good- I think he likes Ellaria.” She mumbled. “She won’t let anything happen to him.” She said, seemingly to herself more than anyone else. Oberyn gave her an encouraging smile, and Arya’s stomach lurched. _Robin?_ “Um, I suppose I could eat.”

“Late lunch?” Oberyn raised a brow, and Sansa looked sheepish.

“I haven’t- I ate breakfast, but I was too nervous to eat lunch today.” Oberyn’s eyes widened, and he looked briefly annoyed. Sansa seemed to catch that and looked down, seemingly embarrassed, but Arya knew Oberyn well enough to know that it wasn’t directed at Sansa.

“Can we go to Marza’s?” Arya asked, suddenly eager to distract Sansa. “Gendry is here, can he come?” she winced, and turned to Sansa. “Uh- sorry. Gendry is my boyfriend. Are- would you be okay with that?”

Sansa gave her a kind smile through the tears on her face, and Arya briefly wondered how in the hells this girl was so _nice._

“I love Marza’s.” she replied, “And I would love to meet Gendry.” Her tone was warm, and Arya didn’t detect even a hint of deception in it. She smiled back at Sansa, a strange warmth blooming in her stomach. This girl- this was her _sister._

“Awesome. He’s kind of an idiot, but he’s okay.”

* * *

What Arya Stark had not been prepared for was for Sansa to know Gendry.

“I’m Alayne- Sansa Bael- I’m Sansa.” She had greeted, shaking Gendry’s hand. He had looked just as awkward as Arya had felt earlier, and she smirked at him. “I’m sorry if this is weird, but were you in Jensen’s 10am history of Essos class? You look familiar.”

“Uh, yeah.” He had answered, giving her an awkward grin. “I’m sorry- I’m usually too tired in the mornings or I would have recognized you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sansa waved a hand. “He’s phenomenally boring. My friend Mya and I both took his class- we had to work together to make sure we stayed awake.” She laughed. Arya had felt a brief flare of jealousy- Sansa was gorgeous, and she was decidedly… not as beautiful as Sansa. But Gendry turned back and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she relaxed as Sansa smiled that genuinely kind smile again at the sight of them.

 _You’re being ridiculous._ She admonished herself, feeling slightly embarassed. _This isn’t about you._

“How did you two meet?” Sansa asked, after they were finally seated, in the most sheltered corner of the restaurant. It was a Friday night, and there were small groups of students celebrating the end of exams all throughout the place, but Marza’s was generally quieter than most places on weekends. Oberyn had gone to have a conversation with the manager, and Arya suspected he was checking the kitchen security asking them to keep their visit under wraps.

Jory was still glancing around, scanning for stray reporters, but relaxed a bit when he didn’t spot any. Sansa hadn’t realized who he was- hadn’t remembered him at all- and their introduction had been fairly awkward on Jory’s side. Sansa seemed to possess the singular ability to make the people around her more comfortable, though, and had gotten him to relax, asking about his family and smiling at his stories about his nieces, who lived in the north near the Starks.

“I’m on the fencing team.” Arya had grinned, shooting Gendry an amused look. “My friend, Ned- well, he’s sort of like my- well, _our_ \- cousin, is on it with me- and I wanted to get him a really nice saber for his birthday last year. A decorative thing, you know?” Sansa nodded, despite probably not knowing what Arya meant at all, about Ned being their cousin, or about the saber. “I went to talk to the metals club, and this lunk claimed he could make exactly what I was looking for.”

“I could.” Gendry snorted, making Sansa grin at the two of them.

“Naturally-“ Arya continued, as though Gendry hadn’t spoken, “I called his bluff. But he managed it. And I agreed to go out with him.”

“You cornered me in the forge and told me I was taking you out to dinner.” Gendry pointed out, affectionately. Arya smacked him.

“Yeah, but you _agreed_.” She retorted. Before Gendry could respond, though, Oberyn returned, sitting down with a flourish.

“I called Ellaria.” He told Sansa, taking a sip of the water he had ordered. “Your brother is doing fine- he’s calmed down since earlier. She said he was watching a movie with the girls- that there was a lot of popcorn and junk food involved.” He smiled at her. Sansa looked visibly relieved. Arya, meanwhile, was more than a bit confused. _Brother?_

“I’m glad.” She said, quietly. “He’s always looked up to fath- to Petyr. He’s going to be angry for a while, but it’s good to know he’s not spending his night alone.”

“He’s not angry with _you,_ dear.” Oberyn reassured, taking her hand. “He’s a teenage boy- from what my brother has told me about his own sons, they spend an awful lot of time being angry for no reason whatsoever- and Baelish lied to you and him both. I would guess the boy doesn’t know his own mind right now- and he’s confused.”

“You heard him earlier though-“ Sansa whispered, and Arya glanced at Gendry, who looked as horrified as she did when Sansa started to cry, “He hates me for this- he does!”

“Sweet girl, he’ll forgive you.” Oberyn soothed. “You’ve done nothing but expose a lie. Nothing at all to be angry about.” It took a few more minutes of Oberyn’s gentle prodding, but he managed to convince Sansa to stop crying and take a few bites of her food, once it arrived. Arya desperately tried to think of what to say, but her mind just went blank.

What was there that she could _possibly_ say to make any of this better?

* * *

Sansa wiped her face, grateful for Oberyn Martell’s steady presence at the table. If she hadn’t been so upset, she thought she might have laughed at Arya and Gendry’s identical panicked looks when she had started to cry. She hadn’t meant to- it was just that everything around her seemed overwhelming all of a sudden. She could push down her tangled feelings about her father- about _Petyr-_ after her conversation with Oberyn earlier, but having Sweetrobin upset with her had pushed something over the edge.

He had always been a difficult child of sorts- their mother- _not your mother, his-_ had been overly indulgent of him, and although he had matured significantly since her death, he still tended to save his best behavior for Sansa. He was a sweet boy, she knew, even if he didn’t always know how to handle his emotions. He didn’t have many friends, but he had always been sweet to her, and had loved her even when Lysa had been unkind to Sansa. Hearing him blame her for everything- well, it _was_ her fault. She was foolish, just like father- _Petyr-_ had often said.

She sniffled, looking up into Oberyn’s comforting dark eyes, Arya and Gendry’s identical looks of panic, and Jory’s pained expression. She felt horrible. They were trying to make her feel welcome, and all she could do was cry.

“I’m sorry.” She apologized, fidgeting with her napkin in her lap. “I don’t mean to make this uncomfortable.” _I just ruin everything. A stupid, foolish girl._

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

Sansa looked up, startled, into Jory’s determined face. He had kind eyes, she decided, trying to figure out what to say.

“I-“

“This isn’t exactly a typical situation.” Oberyn agreed, exchanging a look with Arya’s bodyguard. “Think nothing of it, and don’t allow yourself to feel guilt for being upset at a situation that has been nothing but unfair to you.” His words were gentle, and Sansa could feel tears begin to well in her eyes again at his kindness, and at Jory’s. She was horrified at her behavior, but couldn’t seem to stop them.

“Thank you.” She whispered, taking a sip of her water. Sansa didn’t drink very often, but she had never wished more for a glass of wine. Something, anything, to relax her.

“Like I said, think nothing of it.” Oberyn waved off, focusing a grin on Arya. Sansa was grateful for the distraction- it gave her a chance to collect herself a bit. “Now- a question for you, little Stark. Does your father know that you’ve found such a handsome young man?”

Sansa wasn’t sure who turned redder- Arya or Gendry. Arya scowled.

“Dad will be happy- he’ll like Gendry.”

“And your mother?”

Arya immediately paled, but schooled her face the next minute.

“Mum will like him too.” She stubbornly insisted.

“You told me she kept trying to set you up with ‘that nice Frey boy’.” Gendry pointed out, incredulously. “And you said that she still doesn’t like Talisa.”

“Mum will like you, or she’s not gonna like the alternative.” Arya growled. “Just because Robb is too chicken to tell her off about Talisa-“

“Lady Stark likes Meera Reed just fine.” Jory pointed out, hiding a grin behind his napkin as Arya threw her hands up.

“That’s because everybody likes Meera!” she exclaimed. Sansa raised a bemused brow, and Arya looked sheepish, hastening to explain. “Mum is- well- she has high standards, I guess. Robb- my- our- oldest brother is about to graduate from Oldtown, and he’s been dating a girl from Volantis for a while. Mum hasn’t exactly- well, Robb decided that he was going to spend part of his summer hols with Talisa’s family after they started dating, and mum was furious that he didn’t come home. It’s been interesting ever since. Tal is nice though- I like her just fine.” She shrugged.

“What are they all like?” Sansa asked, folding her hands together to hide her anxiety at the question. “Your family?”

Arya looked thoughtful for a second. She seemed more relaxed now that they were talking about a subject she knew, and Sansa was able to let out a breath in turn.

“Well, there are a lot of them. Robb’s the oldest, then me, and there’s Bran and Rickon, my- our- little brothers. Robb’s an idiot who spends way too much time working out, and believes everything Tal’s brothers tell him, which is hilarious most of the time- they convinced him once that it was polite to bow to people in Volantis, and Talisa sent us video.” Gendry snickered at the memory. Sansa raised her brows, the ghost of a smile on her lips. It was easier, like this, she thought. Just listening, while Arya talked.

“He sounds… interesting.”

“He’s an overprotective idiot sometimes, but we like him.” Arya told her. “Bran’s a huge nerd- he lost the use of his legs in a climbing accident, and he’s been the world’s biggest bookworm since. I think he changes what he wants to major in at college once a week, and he has the dubious honor of being the only Stark child who is dating someone that mum likes.” Sansa did smile at that.

“What does he like to read?” she asked.

“Anything he can get his hands on.” Oberyn snorted.

“Pretty much.” Arya agreed. “I think he’s probably going to major in history- he and Jon- he’s Robb’s best friend and pretty much an honorary Stark-“

“He’s my sister’s son. Well, stepson, technically.” Oberyn chimed in, taking a swig of his drink.

“They like to talk about history all the time.” Arya said, shooting Oberyn a glare for interrupting.

“Stepson?” Sansa asked, feeling a bit weak-kneed- which was an improvement over her earlier panic. She would have to remember to eat consistently- she felt far more steady now that she had inhaled almost an entire dish of spaghetti. Still, this was going to be quite a few names to remember. She almost felt like she should be taking notes.

“Uh, yeah.” Arya responded, looking a bit flustered as she seemed to realize how overwhelmed Sansa was. “Jon’s mum, Aunt Lyanna, was good friends with our mum and dad in college. Aunt Lyanna got involved with a guy- Rhaegar Targaryen- who didn’t tell her he was married and had two small kids already with Oberyn’s sister Elia Martell. When Aunt Lya realized that she was pregnant, she told Rhaegar, who freaked out, and told her that he was married with kids.”

“My sister wanted Rhaenys and Aegon, her children with Rhaegar, to know their brother, Jon, and so she befriended Lyanna.” Oberyn added. Then he gave her a huge grin. “They got married a year and a half after Elia and Rhaegar got a divorce, and have been together since.”

Sansa gaped at him, and then began to laugh, for the first time in several days. It felt almost rusty, after the week she had had.

“You’re kidding!”

“He’s not.” Arya confirmed. “They live in the north, near Winterfell, so Jon, Rhae, and Egg basically got folded in with the rest of us. This guy-“ she jerked a finger in Oberyn’s direction, “and his seventeen kids were apparently part of the package deal.”

“I only have eight daughters.” Oberyn stated, not looking ashamed at all. “The gods have not blessed me with quite so many, unfortunately. But yes, I did like to bring my girls to meet their cousins, and the Stark children seemed to be a part of that- my sister and Lya lived in Ned and Catelyn’s guest house for several years before they got their feet off the ground- by that point, Ned and Catelyn had gotten far too used to them to have them leave, and simply allowed them to renovate the guest house for more room.”

“That’s quite something.” Sansa said, weakly.

“And there’s Rickon, too.” Arya added, sheepishly. “He’s the youngest Stark- he’s as wild as they get. Plays rugby and soccer, and got penalized last month for nearly biting a chunk out of someone’s ear.”

Sansa was not proud of the way she choked on her water, but at least Gendry was snorting as well, apparently having heard the story before.

“So,” she managed, once she caught her breath, “Robb, you, Bran, Rickon, Jon, Rhaenys, and- Aegon?”

“Egg is a bigger idiot than Jon and Robb combined.” Arya snorted. “But yes. Rhae is the oldest, and she’s not home very often anymore- she works near Highgarden, and she’s dating a _Tyrell._ ” Arya said the word with an air of disdain, and Oberyn let out a roar of laughter.

“Willas is a perfectly fine man.” He told Arya, wiping tears from his eyes. “Maybe a bit old for my niece, but he’s boring enough not to get her into any trouble.”

“Oberyn is friends with Willas Tyrell.” Arya told Sansa, as though this was an enormous character flaw.

Sansa, having absolutely _no_ idea who Willas Tyrell was, spared a glance for Gendry, who merely shrugged his shoulders at her as though to say _‘what can you do?’_

“And what about your- our mother and father?” Sansa asked, softly, the words tasting odd on her tongue. “What are they like?”

Sansa watched Arya exchange an uneasy glace with Gendry.

“Dad is sweet, but kind of a sap. He’ll- well, he’s not the most talkative guy, but he’s a really good father!” Arya insisted. “He talked mum into letting me attend school here- they have the best fencing program in the world, and I got a scholarship to come here. She wanted me to stay in Winterfell, but he talked her out of it.”

“You’re on a scholarship?” Sansa felt herself smile. “I’ll have to come watch a match sometime- you must be very good.”

She watched as Arya blushed.

“I mean- I guess.” She mumbled.

“She’s being modest.” Gendry snorted. “She’ll probably make the Westerosi Olympic Team in a couple of years.”

“Shut up.” Arya elbowed him. “Jerk.”

Sansa chuckled and Arya looked up at her

“Oh yeah- and if you come, you can meet Ned!”

“Ned?” she asked, perplexed.

“Yeah, Ned Dayne.” Arya grinned. “The friend I mentioned getting the saber for? He’s sort of our cousin- Uncle Brandon- Dad’s older brother, is married to his aunt Ashara. So not technically related, but sort of. He’s a decent dude.”

“Sounds perfect.” Sansa managed to get out, trying to press down her panic at all of these names. She had been prepared for one family- not however many people Arya had managed to mention so far. _Smile, laugh, charm them._ She heard father’s- Petyr’s- voice in her head.

_It’s always important to make a good impression, sweetling._

“What’s our mother like?” She asked, trying to banish the thought of Petyr.

_Your mother._

“Mum is- mum is a lot sometimes.” Arya admitted, fidgeting slightly. “She’s really overprotective a lot of the time, and cried for days when Robb wanted to go to oldtown for Uni.”

 _Because of you._ Sansa’s mind filled in. _Because you disappeared._

“She’s a stay-at-home mom, mostly.” Arya continued, oblivious to Sansa’s sudden guilt, hanging heavy in her stomach. “She manages a lot of the charitable stuff the Starks are responsible for. Galas, charity dinners, fundraising- all that stuff.”

Sansa’s eyebrows shot up.

“That sounds like a lot.” She said, before she could think better of it. Arya just nodded, though.

“Yeah- she loves planning that sort of thing, though. It’s gonna be hilarious when Robb eventually asks Talisa to marry him. Mum’ll be over the moon planning the wedding, even though she still hasn’t warmed up to Tal yet. Total doublethink kinda thing.”

Oberyn actually snickered at that.

“Mum’ll be really excited to hear that you’re into fashion stuff, though.” Arya continued, enthusiastically. “She’s always liked shoving us all into nice clothes for those events of hers- she’ll be glad to have someone besides Rhae to dress up.”

“You don’t like to?” Sansa asked with a smile. Arya was brash, and didn’t seem to always think before she spoke, and Sansa found that she was starting to really like the girl. The way Gendry mooned over her too was just _adorable._ It almost reminded her of Mya, pining after Michael Redfort.

Sansa considered the implications of that thought, and promptly did a double take when Gendry grinned at Arya. That smirk. Those electric eyes. _It couldn’t be…_

“It’s not my favorite.” Arya admitted, twisting her face.

“Mrs. Stark apparently doesn’t let her bring her sabers to parties where she has to wear a dress.” Gendry snorted. Arya smacked him, and Sansa actually let herself genuinely laugh for the second time that evening.

She could worry about Gendry’s strange resemblance to her best friend later. She was probably overreacting.

* * *

Jon was asleep when he slowly awoke to the sound of someone banging on his front door. Swearing, he looked at his phone. 1:15 am, and more than one missed call. Brow furrowed, he looked closer. 30 missed calls from Robb, 2 from Ned Stark, and a voicemail from Aunt Catelyn- and _70 unread text messages?_

He opened the messenger app as he shuffled to the door, hoping that Sam and Gilly were still asleep. Most of the texts were from Robb, again, but there were a few from Bran and Rickon and Arya, and even his moms, and about fifteen were from his brother. Rhae had sent him a simple message that just said to call her as soon as Robb had finished talking to him.

Sure enough, when he opened the door, he was greeted by the most frantic Robb Stark he had seen since Bran’s accident.

“What the-“ he asked, half asleep, “Robb.” He greeted, opening the door to let his best friend in. “where’s Tal?”

“The ER-“ Robb muttered, running an agitated hand through his hair. He was almost drunk already, Jon realized. “She couldn’t get the night off- I texted her, and apparently they’re a bit swamped. Something about the full moon.”

“Right.” Jon muttered. “You want to tell me why I have almost twenty-seven voicemails from you?”

“They found her.” he said, eyes wide.

“Found her?” Jon blinked, blearily. He had years of experience dealing with a tipsy Robb, but it didn’t always make it easy to suss out what he was on about.

“They found Sansa.” Robb told him, waking him up almost instantly. He was talking so quickly that Jon almost couldn’t understand him. “She’s alive- and she’s been living in Braavos all these years. Uncle Oberyn found her- he and Arya are with her.”

“They- what- Sansa?” Jon managed to get out, shocked.

When Robb nodded, he went over to the cupboard, grabbed 2 glasses and a bottle of bourbon, and poured one for each of them.

“You can explain to Gilly tomorrow why we were up late making noise if she gets mad at us.” Jon told him, clinking his glass with Robb’s. “Cheers, mate. Now you want to elaborate on what the _fuck_ is going on?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is referencing Sansa, who is an emotional wreck here, but still a trooper, and I feel like that’s a fairly reasonable response to the situation. She is having a VERY rough week, but I promise you, she is not going to cry her way through the entire story. I love writing the relationship between Sansa and Oberyn- it sort of happened very organically, and I think the dynamic between the two is going to act as a sort of anchor for the rest of the relationships we’ll see Sansa begin to develop, as she meets this massive ensemble cast we’ve got going. 
> 
> Also, holy cow this chapter is long. I really hope you guys enjoy it! It didn’t feel right to end it any sooner, so it’s a bit of a read. I wanted to get it up sooner, but I ended up having to do a lot more editing and rewriting than I expected. Also, life. You know how it is.
> 
> The scene at dinner where Sansa meets Arya, Gendry, and Jory (who is quiet, and used to hanging in the backround, which is why we don’t really hear much from him), is actually the first part of this story I wrote, and as a result, I had to do some serious editing to it. I have a habit of writing out of order, just to get the ideas down, and then doing extensive editing later, so I actually have a decent amount of the story written, it’s just getting the pieces in between that’s kind of tricky. But I ended up really loving the dynamic that got created- Gendry’s a few steps removed from the mess, so he’s able to loosen Arya up and make Sansa laugh a bit. I’ve never tried writing Gendrya before, so I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Writing that brief questioning scene between Oberyn and Sansa was one of the hardest things I’ve done in this story- everything for Sansa is really emotionally charged, and Oberyn is a federal agent who is used to having to ask hard questions, but this is a personal case for everyone involved. We haven’t entirely closed that chapter yet- we’ll see more of what Sansa told Oberyn in future chapters as he and Daemon start taking a closer look at things. 
> 
> And hey! Jon is here!! His introduction, and a continuation of it, were also some of the earlier pieces of this story, and I thought we’d segue into the rest of the Stark/Targ clans through Jon finding out the news from Robb. 
> 
> Next chapter is going to focus more on everyone in Westeros, as Sansa prepares to meet Ned and Catelyn. We’ll get a window into Jon’s world the way we’ve gotten to see Sansa, and we’ll start looking into some of the impacts that a trauma like Sansa’s disappearance would have had on the family. Also to look forward to: more Sansa & Arya interactions that I hope will help lighten up the whole thing a bit. 
> 
> Thank you guys so SO much for all of your kind comments and reviews!!! I absolutely LOVE writing this story- and I’m so blown away by how many of you have enjoyed it as well. You’re all fantastic for leaving me great reviews, and I love reading them! 
> 
> (The quote from the beginning of this chapter is taken from the book I’m reading this week: ‘Trauma and Recovery’ by Judith Herman. It’s been a fantastic resource for this story, and I would highly recommend it).


	7. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's had her entire world turned upside-down in the last week: Robin is still struggling and angry with everyone except Daemon Sand, she's trying to memorize the names of probably a million family members, and she's about to meet her biological parents for the first time. If it weren't for Ellaria and Oberyn, she'd be completely lost. 
> 
> Seriously, she's nominating Ellaria for sainthood at the first chance she gets.
> 
> -
> 
> Across the Narrow Sea, Jon and Robb have something of a rough morning, Jon discusses the ramifications of Sansa's case with Arya and Rhaenys, and Samwell Tarly makes some _damn_ good points.

“I often don't say things out loud, even when I should. I contain and compartmentalize to a disturbing degree: In my belly-basement are hundreds of bottles of rage, despair, fear, but you'd never guess from looking at me.” 

― **Gillian Flynn,** **Gone Girl**

* * *

**9:30am, Friday morning in Oldtown**

**(7:30 pm, Friday evening in Braavos)**

Sure enough, Gilly wasn’t pleased with them the next morning, both hungover and passed out on the couch, but was a good deal more sympathetic when Robb explained the situation in-between groans. It wasn’t every day a family member came back from the dead, after all. She had sighed, told Robb he was welcome to stay, but that if he made a mess it was his to clean up, and headed off to her shift at the hospital, where Talisa would likely fill her in on the details.

Sam was incredibly confused by the whole thing, and Jon ended up filling in the details for him, as Robb was too busy freaking out about the possibility of meeting Sansa.

“We have to fly to Braavos.” He insisted to Jon. “We have to go see her. Shit, Jon- she’s _alive_.”

“You’ve told me this.” Jon responded, swallowing a few advil. While Robb was, in all likelihood, still drunk, Jon was sober enough to feel the hangover looming. “Aunt Cat left me a voicemail though- she and your dad are flying there tomorrow to meet her- they’ll work out what’s going to happen next.”

“But she’s _there_ right now!” Robb whined. “I need to see her!”

“In your state?” Sam asked incredulously, looking up from the table where he was grading term papers. Jon privately thought that Sam made a damn good point, even as Robb made a rude gesture in his direction, without lifting his head from the couch.

“You’re going to overwhelm her if you all go at once.” Jon pointed out. “Did you look at any of Arya’s texts? I think they're having dinner right now.”

Robb briefly flipped through his phone, and groaned as Sam moved the curtains and sunlight hit his face.

“Okay fine.” He muttered, throwing an arm carelessly over his face. “We wait to go see Sansa. And kill whoever took her.”

“Took her?” Jon raised a brow. “Well, yeah, man, but it’s not going to be us doing the killing. Leave that to the courts system.”

“Is it going to be tried here, do you think?” Sam asked Jon, briefly looking up from his workload.

“Depends on who the kidnapper was.” Jon shrugged. “I think even if he is a Braavosi, though, the king will insist that parliament make a demand to extradite him. He knows how hard your dad took Sansa’s disappearance, and the Stark name holds a lot of weight still. But if the kidnapper- he or she- is from Westeros, then the trial will be definitely be held here.” He directed his next question to Robb. “Have you heard anything about who it was?”

“Mum and Dad won’t tell me.” He groaned. “Can you text Uncle Oberyn? Maybe he’ll give you a heads up about it.”

“Sure.” Jon nodded, absently, firing off a quick message to Oberyn Martell.

**_Jon: Robb wants to know if you found out who kidnapped Sansa_ **

**_Jon: How’s Arya taking it?_ **

_Oberyn: We have._

_Oberyn: Can’t say anything yet_

_Oberyn: WBI’s keeping it under wraps until Ned and Cat get here_

_Oberyn: Bran & Rickon are with El and Lya_

_Oberyn: Arya has a boyfriend_

_Oberyn: A much older boyfriend_

_Oberyn: With quite a few muscles_

_Oberyn: Did you know about this?_

**_Jon: I have the legal right to refrain from incriminating myself_ **

_Oberyn: Law school is making you stuffy_

_Oberyn: I like him_

**_Jon: Gendry seems decent_ **

**_Jon: Arya skyped me with him a couple times_ **

**_Jon: Seems smitten enough_ **

_Oberyn: He’s been very kind to Sansa- he and Arya have managed to make the poor girl laugh at dinner a few times_

**_Jon: How is she doing?_ **

**_Jon: Gods this is weird_ **

_Oberyn: No shit_

_Oberyn: Sansa’s holding up decently, all things considered_

_Oberyn: She’s a bit overwhelmed and confused_

_Oberyn: But you wouldn’t know it if you weren’t looking very closely_

_Oberyn: She keeps everything in_

**_Jon: When are Aunt Cat and Uncle Ned getting there?_ **

_Oberyn: As soon as the next flight does, apparently._

_Oberyn: Tomorrow afternoon I think_

_Oberyn: I told them that we need to do this at Sansa’s pace though_

_Oberyn: Arya told her about all of you guys and I thought she was going to pass out she was so pale_

_Oberyn: She looks just like Cat_

_Oberyn: It’s uncanny_

**_Jon: Damn_ **

**_Jon: Intense_ **

_Oberyn: I told her she and Robin could stay with us as long as it took_

_Oberyn: Poor thing looked absolutely relieved_

_Oberyn: There’ll be paparazzi swarming the place as soon as this breaks_

_Oberyn: Maybe keep Robb occupied so that he doesn’t tell the whole world_

**_Jon: I’ll try_ **

**_Jon: Give Ellaria and the girls a hug from me_ **

_Oberyn: Will do- we’ll probably be moving back this summer_

_Oberyn: With the case mostly wrapped_

_Oberyn: So you’ll see more of us then_

_Oberyn: The bureau owes me a shit ton of vacation time when this is over_

**_Jon: Sounds good_ **

****

Jon set his phone down, noting with no small degree of relief that Robb was asleep again, dozing precariously on the edge of the sofa.

“Do you mind if I make a call?” he asked Sam, who simply shook his head, no, and kept grading. He dialed the familiar number and waited until she picked up.

“Robb’s done freaking out?” Rhaenys asked him, the sounds of a city clearly behind her.

“He’s asleep on my couch at the moment, so temporarily, yeah.” Jon muttered. “What the hell is going on, Rhae?”

“Well I assume Robb filled you in.”

“In between drunken sobbing. Uncle Beryn said that Sansa was staying with him and Ellaria- that they had had dinner with Arya and Gendry.”

“Oh, so Uncle Beryn got to meet the new boyfriend?” his older sister asked, curiously. He heard a car door shut, and the noise of the city dampened. “I’m a bit jealous. I texted her to tell her to bring him home this summer- if Sansa’s going to be here, I’ll definitely be able to get Willas to spend some of the summer up in Winterfell.”

“He said Sansa seemed to be overwhelmed.” Jon told her. “Uncle Beryn, not Robb. Robb was too busy being drunk to consider thoughts more advanced than ‘she’s alive’ and ‘I’ll kill the bastard who took her’.”

“Yikes.” Rhae remarked.

“Yeah, I haven’t seen him this bad since he and Tal had that big fight two years ago.”

“Oh damn.”

“Yeah.”

The line was quiet for a moment. Jon would have bet all the money in his bank account that her mind was working in overdrive, analyzing every bit of information they’d been given so far. 

“I didn’t ever think we’d find her.” Rhae murmured. “It felt like we were always dancing around the fact that she was probably dead, and then when I started at the WBI, we learned more about kidnapping stats, and actually studied Sansa’s case, and they weren’t shy at all about the likelihood that she was alive being slim.”

“Did they know you were there?” Jon asked, incredulously.

“We’re Targaryens, Jonny, not Starks. People don’t realize that we grew up in Winterfell. Everyone always assumes Dragonstone because of Gramps. So no, and it was better that no one knew. I got to hear about the case without anyone dancing around it, for once, like everyone does at home.”

“Yeah, we covered it in one of my classes first semester in law school.” Jon muttered. “Similar thing. Professor Thorne though- the asshole- was so detached when he talked about someone breaking into the White Harbor house and stealing away the eldest Stark daughter. Brought up that fucking theory that her parents killed her. I had to call Aunt Dany and rant for an hour before I could look at him without wanting to chuck a law textbook at the guy.”

Rhaenys chuckled.

“That sounds about right. Hopefully you told her not to go on the warpath, though.”

“You can’t really tell Aunt Dany to do anything.” Jon sighed. “You know how she is. But Thorne is still alive, with all his appendages still in place, unfortunately.”

“Well, he got lucky.” Rhae laughed. “Especially if he tried to say things like that about Uncle Ned and Aunt Cat. The kidnapper probably won’t get to escape Aunt Dany that easily though. If you think it’s going to be prosecuted in Westeros- she might get the case.”

“Yeah.” Jon sighed again, running a hand through his messy hair. “She’s just a step away from Attorney General, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they assigned it to her, with her closure rate.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Rhae responded. “She’s ruthless when she thinks that justice needs to get meted out.”

“True.” Jon muttered. “Have you talked to the asshole at all? I can’t imagine he gets to know yet. Uncle Ned still hasn’t entirely forgiven him.”

Rhae snorted.

“I think dad’s going to find out when the press does, but not sooner.”

“Yeah. Egg knows?”

“Yup.”

“He only left me- hold up, lemme check-“ Jon glanced down at his phone and groaned, “-fifteen texts.”

“Huh.” Rhaenys muttered, surprised. “That’s restrained from him.”

“I think he’s stressed out with work. One of them was a message that shared some very unkind sentiments about dad, accompanied with a photo of him flipping off dad’s office.”

“Nice.” Rhae sounded approving. “I’ve got to run though- my lunch break is almost over.”

“It’s _Friday._ ” Jon groaned.

“Tell that to the Bureau.” Rhae snorted. “I'll be working tomorrow, too. Normally I’d be pissed they’re making junior agents work weekends, but I know I can’t say anything to Will or Margie yet, so I’m kind of grateful for that chance to avoid them.”

“Fair.” Jon admitted. “I’ll call Egg later.”

“Tell him that if he bribes Connington with Arbor Gold, he might be able to get him to shove a Xanax down dad’s throat.” Rhae snorted. “Bye.”

“Will do. Bye.”

Jon put his phone down, scrubbing his hands through his hair in exhaustion.

“Is your sister working weekends again?” Sam asked, in the middle of putting on the kettle. “Tea?”

“I think this situation is going to require coffee.” Jon muttered. “I’ll make some, thanks. And yeah- she’s still on-duty.”

“Doesn’t seem particularly fair.” Sam muttered. Jon bit back a smile. Sam was reserved enough that he didn’t always get along with Egg or Robb, but he and Rhae got along like they'd been best friends in another life, and Rhae thought he and Gilly were adorable. Jon suspected his sister had just been thrilled to have friends that were as enthusiastic about musical theater as she was. She and Gilly had bonded over their shared love of ‘Wicked’, and Rhae’s perpetual calm complimented Sam’s shy, steady temperament well.

“Your girlfriend is about to work a weekend, as is Robb’s, and if my eyes don’t deceive me, you’re working through Saturday as well.” Jon pointed out, indicating the massive stack of papers next to Sam. “Besides, she says she’s glad for the chance to avoid Willas and Margaery. Doesn’t want to let the cat out of the bag.”

Jon wasn’t worried about Sam, Gilly, or Tal telling anyone. It was Robb he needed to keep an eye on. Hopefully, though, he would be sleeping for a while.

“Seems fair.” Sam admitted, bustling around the kitchen. “How are you holding up?”

“Me?”

“Well, yeah.” Sam laughed, giving him an incredulous look. “Oh come on. One of the biggest unsolved mysteries in the last century is solved- it’s enough to turn anyone’s head. But you’re actually involved, mate- or is that not Robb Stark snoring on our couch right now?”

Jon let out a ragged sigh, closing his eyes as he leaned against the counter next to the coffee machine.

“It doesn’t feel entirely real yet.” He admitted. “I just- we were so young when she was taken that I don’t even remember much about her. Mostly just what Aunt Cat would say, and the photos we had.”

“Well that might be a good thing, don’t you think?” Sam asked.

“What do you mean?”

“None of you really have any expectations about who she is.” He shrugged. “Can you imagine the amount of pressure she feels like she’s under? At least this way, none of you have any ideas about who she should be or how she should act. I know none of you can really relax with this situation, but that should give everyone a little comfort.”

Jon just looked blankly at him, until Sam began to fidget under his stare.

“Sorry, I-“

“If Sansa comes to Winterfell, I’m going to need to you there to remind everyone periodically about what you just said.” Jon interrupted, giving him a tired smile. “I don’t think everyone there is going to be as wonderfully rational about it as you are.” 

* * *

**1:30pm, Friday, in Oldtown**

**(11:30 pm, Friday, in Braavos)**

“ _Gods_ Jon she is so fucking _nice._ ” Arya groaned, flopping back on Gendry’s bed and ignoring his raised eyebrows at the way she was lying on top of most of his laundry. “Like, you would not even _believe_ it, nice. I don’t know how- it’s a batshit crazy situation in the first fucking place- I would have screamed at Uncle Oberyn for like, six hours if he had tried to tell me that dad had actually kidnapped me as a baby, not just cried a bit and then had dinner with the man!”

“Really? Never would have guessed.” Jon chuckled, and Arya could hear papers rustling in the background. He was probably studying- it was late at night in Braavos, but somewhere around late afternoon in Oldtown, she thought. “You? Confrontational? A real shocker, there.”

“Shut up.” She muttered. “It’s just weird. Like- I want to help her, but I don’t know what to say to her. Even Gen seems better at it than me!”

The boyfriend in question casually stuck his tongue out at her from where he sat on his desk chair and she grinned at him.

“I can’t even imagine what it’s got to be like.” She heard Jon’s voice say, somewhat absently. “I mean- I’ve heard lots of people talk about the case at school- one of my professors last semester was a real asshole about it-“

“I hope you tried to sic Dany on them.” Arya muttered, to Jon’s apparent amusement.

“I told her about it, yeah, but unfortunately, being an insufferable douchebag isn’t enough to go after someone legally.” He let out a snort. “She’s trying to cinch that Attorney General position within the next few years, anyways, so she can’t just go setting fire to people’s cars or going after assholes like Thorne without a really good excuse. That’s what Rhae and I told her, at least.”

“Shame. That thing with Moro’s truck was really funny.”

“Yeah. The point isn’t that my aunt can’t engage in recreational arson or that Thorne is an asshole, though-“

“Although if he was being a dick about Sansa, he _absolutely_ is-“

“-The point is that it’s a really incendiary case for a lot of reasons.” Jon said, firmly. “Enough people spread that false theory about your parents that it ruined Uncle Ned’s chances at that parliamentary seat. A lot of journalists actually ended up indicted for libel with what they’d printed, even though the damage to the Stark name had already been done. The story was all over the country for years- ended up going international, and the tabloids were having a field day with it.” Arya heard him sigh. “Arya, Sansa probably knows about this story. She’s probably heard it told and gossiped about and speculated upon- can you imagine hearing about this massive kidnapping case as a kid, and then growing up and realizing that you’re the child at the center of it all? If she didn’t have a nervous breakdown at the police station, I would be amazed.”

“She seemed mostly normal.” Arya shrugged. “I mean, a little stressed out, but she seemed more upset about her brother than anything else.”

“Her brother?”

“Yeah, apparently mum’s sister’s kid- Robert Arryn.” Arya told him, to complete silence on the other end. Then,

“You’ve got to be _fucking_ kidding me.” Jon muttered. “I cannot believe- actually- I can absolutely believe that Uncle Oberyn would keep this quiet, but I texted him this _morning_ and he didn’t say anything about that.”

“About Robin? I mean- Robert?” Arya asked, trying to figure out what Jon was going on about. “Sorry, Sansa kept calling him ‘Robin’ so I’m mixing them up- I think that was the alias.”

“Yeah.” Jon mumbled, swearing under his breath. “That was his working theory- that Lysa and Robert’s disappearance had something to do with Sansa’s.

“Well shit.”

“He’s going to be insufferable about this.” She heard Jon mutter.

“Yeah but he did kinda solve the case of the century.” Arya pointed out. “I think he probably gets to be insufferable for like, one Christmas for that.”

“Stop being reasonable.” Jon whined. “If I wanted to hear reasonable things, I’d call Rhae, or Bran probably. I already live with Sam, and he’s reasonable enough for twelve people.”

Arya took a moment to think this over.

“That’s probably fair.” She agreed. “Though once Sansa comes back, I think she’s going to get lumped into the ‘reasonable’ category. She’s much nicer than you jerks.”

“Psh.” Jon scoffed. “Maybe Egg and your oldest brother and Theon, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m delightful. Besides, who else is going to give you free legal advice?”

“Your aunt.” Arya smirked. Jon groaned, and Arya heard a smack, like he had let his arm fall over his eyes.

“Don’t bring Dany into this yet.”

“Afraid you’ll be replaced?”

“Look, we don’t need Targaryen Madness involved here just yet.” Jon muttered.

“ _You’re_ a Targaryen.”

“In name only.”

“Still.”

Jon sighed.

“No involving Dany until the trial, okay?”

“I wasn’t planning to.” Arya told him, honestly. “I love her, but she’s way too intense for this. She’ll terrify Sansa if we aren’t careful.”

“We’ll just have to be, then.” She heard Jon mutter. “I can’t imagine having Aunt Dany happen to you, especially after everything else Sansa’s dealing with.”

Arya audibly snorted, making Gendry look up in amusement. She flipped him off, and blew him a kiss- giving his face that goofy smile that she liked so much.

“We’ll help her out, Jon- as much as possible.”

“I hope we can.” He muttered, muted on the other line.

Arya couldn’t help but agree.

“She’s meeting mum and dad tomorrow.” She told Jon, her tone more serious. “I gave her my number- you know- if she needs anything.”

“That’s good.” She heard Jon mutter. He sounded distracted, and she wondered what thoughts his mind was running away with now. “That’s good.”

“I wish this whole thing came with instructions.” Arya admitted, drawing a sympathetic look from Gendry. She hadn’t mentioned her worry in any of her texts to Bran, Rickon, or Robb, but she and Jon had always been close. She knew he wouldn’t overreact like Robb, or tease her the way Aegon might. “I Just feel... lost. And if I feel lost, then how the hell is Sansa feeling?”

“I don’t know, Arya.” Jon sighed. “I really don’t know yet. All we can do now is wait.”

“I hate waiting.” She muttered, pouting slightly.

“You and me both, short stuff.” Jon snorted.

* * *

**9:45am, Saturday: Braavos**

Sansa was drawing a diagram in her sketchbook as she sat back against the wall in one of the guest bedrooms in Ellaria and Oberyn’s townhouse. Mya had left earlier, but not before asking Sansa if she wanted her to stay. Sansa knew that Saturdays were Mya’s regular time with her mom, who had a decently hectic schedule, and she hadn’t wanted to keep her friend from seeing Ms. Stone, who Sansa absolutely adored.

She’d been in a mild state of panic since Mya had left, though, and so Sansa was doing what she did best in a crisis.

This meant that she was making a chart. A family tree, specifically. Color-coded, so that she knew who was actually family, and who the close friends were. Ned and Catelyn Stark were coming to meet her _today_ , and she was terrified that she wouldn’t be prepared. Arya had given Sansa her number (as well as Gendry’s), and Sansa had been texting her all morning with increasingly detailed questions.

**Sansa:** Who’s Brandon married to again?

 **Arya:** Aunt Ashara

 **Arya:** Ashara Dayne- they don’t have any kids, thank god.

 **Arya:** Uncle Brandon’s absolutely insane

 **Sansa:** Good information to have

 **Sansa:** And is Rhaenys dating Willas Tyrell? Is it Willas or Willis?

 **Arya:** Gods

 **Arya:** Ur just like mum with the planning

 **Arya:** It’s Willas

 **Arya:** but I told u

 **Arya:** it’ll be way funnier if you just NEVER get anyone’s name right

 **Arya:** What are they gonna do? Call you on it?

 **Arya:** ‘sorry u were kidnapped as a baby how dare u not know our names’???

 **Sansa:** hahahaha excellent

 **Sansa:** Bold strategy, but workable

 **Arya:** Sorry

 **Arya:** too far?

Almost immediately, her phone pinged again. She grinned to see Gendry’s name pop up next to Arya’s- those two were adorable beyond belief. Sansa was a little jealous of their apparent ease and casual banter- none of her previous relationships had ever been quite as comfortable- though none had lasted long. She’d forgotten to ask Arya how long she and Gendry had been together- they acted like a cute old married couple, and Sansa welcomed the distraction from her nerves that they provided.

**Gendry:** Hey Sansa

 **Gendry:** Sorry my girlfriend is so blunt sometimes

 **Gendry:** We’re working on it

 **Sansa:** no, I’m genuinely laughing at that

 **Sansa:** promise

 **Gendry:** u sure?

 **Gendry:** I can pick her up by the ankle with one hand and it really annoys her

 **Gendry:** so lemme kno if you change your mind

 **Sansa:** Sounds promising

 **Sansa:** I’ll give it due consideration

Sansa meant what she had said- Arya’s blunt words were reassuring, in an odd sort of way, and so she declined Gendry’s offer (even though an impish part of her thought that particular picture would be _really_ funny). She would have to figure out something to do to thank her for answering every question Sansa had sent her in the last eight hours- some slightly more frantic than others. She’d nearly had a full-on anxiety attack when she realized that there were _three_ Stark brothers, and not two, and had to calm herself down before Ellaria came upstairs and realized something was wrong.

She and Mya- who had come over last night after dinner at Sansa’s insistence- had practiced a breathing technique for anxiety after Sansa had spilled everything to her best friend. Mya had been horrified, but had held tightly to Sansa’s hand the entire time they spoke, squeezing it reassuringly when Sansa would start to drift off into her own head. Mya had distracted her by suggesting they try a ridiculous DIY project she had seen that involved a lot of cut paper and messy glitter, and they had ended up making a card for Robin- hoping that it would prod him into speaking to Sansa again.

Sansa had thanked Ellaria profusely earlier in the morning, after Mya- who had slept over- left. Ellaria had simply smoothed Sansa’s hair back from her face and smiled at her.

“It’s no trouble at all, Sansa.” She had promised, smiling almost sadly. “I’m glad you have a friend you can turn to now- how are you feeling about later today?”

Sansa had opened her mouth and promptly shut it again before she looked like a fish in front of Ellaria. Petyr had often criticized her for that habit, and her situation was no excuse to forget her manners in front of a woman who had been nothing but kind to her.

“I- I think-“ Sansa paused, all of her fear and frustration and panic swirling around ominously in her stomach, “I think it’ll be fine.” She finally lied, smiling at Ellaria. She wasn’t sure that the older woman had quite bought the act, but either way, she didn’t press the issue, and Sansa was grateful for it.

“Well let’s get some breakfast in you, then, before they get here later.” Ellaria placed a gentle hand on her back, guiding Sansa into the kitchen. “How do you feel about French toast?”

* * *

“You don’t really think I’m like- an insensitive jerk or anything, right?” Arya asked, out of the blue. Gendry’s head whipped around so quickly that he was surprised there wasn’t an audible crack from the motion.

“Of course not!” he told her, furrowing his brow. “You know I’m kidding, saying that to Sansa right?”

“You actually can lift me up with one hand, though.” Arya shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. “Can never quite tell, really.”

“Hey-“ Gendry’s voice was softer now, and he got up from the floor where he’d been leaning against her bed to come sit next to her, “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to upset you. I won’t say that you’re blunt again if you don’t like it.” He grinned, throwing an arm around her. “It’s actually one of my favorite ‘Arya things’.”

“Oh shush.” Arya pouted, leaning into his embrace anyways.

“It is!” Gendry insisted, pulling back to meet her eyes. He loved her eyes- the intense silver-gray had practically pinned him in place the first time they had met. Granted, she'd also been bullying him into making a sword, and he had found it oddly charming. “You know- everyone else is probably going to tiptoe around her for a while.”

“Well, duh.” Arya pointed out. “She’s kinda got a lot going on.”

“Yeah, but Sansa seems to like that you _don’t_.” Gendry pointed out. “I think she likes that you’re honest and straightforward about the whole thing.”

“Really?” Arya wrinkled her nose.

“Yeah!” Gendry grinned. “I think Sansa just looks like she’d be fragile- she’s got a spine of steel like you, though.” He snorted. “Must be a Stark thing.”

“Oh wait until you meet Robb.” Arya muttered, trying not to blush at the compliment. “He’s more like a noodle.”

“Well, Stark _women_ then.” Gendry corrected. “I think you’ve just gotta keep being real with Sansa, and back off if she ever gets overwhelmed. She’s been texting you all morning though- she _must_ like you.”

“Yeah, well so has Rickon-” Arya snorted, “- and he just wants the password to my Hulu account.”

“Your parents don’t have one?”

“They locked him out of the accounts last week for punching another kid at rugby practice.” Arya told him, smirking. “Kid’s got some anger-management issues, but one hell of a right hook, apparently.”

“You know, every time you talk about them, I get more and more excited to meet your brothers.” Gendry deadpanned.

“Yeah-“ Arya sighed, “Even with the whole ‘kidnapped-at-birth-and-now-I-probably-have-massive-trauma’ thing, Sansa’s probably _still_ going to be the easiest family member to meet.”

“Promises, promises.”

* * *

**10:00 am, Saturday, in Braavos**

Sansa nervously bit her nails- a habit that Petyr had _hated_ \- while she texted with Arya, who was just sending her memes now. Mya had sent a few pictures of cute dogs to Sansa, who could feel her blood pressure actively lowering every time she saw another canine in human clothing or a funny hat.

Ellaria was cooking breakfast for the both of them, hoping to lure her own children downstairs with the smell. The three Sand girls had welcomed Robin into their fold last night for some sort of movie marathon- Sansa and Mya had passed the TV room coming upstairs, but had just caught the strong scent of caramel popcorn and the sound of explosions on their way to Sansa’s room.

“Daemon called your brother.” Ellaria told Sansa, gently. “The DNA came back for Robin- he’s Jon Arryn’s son.”

“I feel like I should be surprised by that.” Sansa murmured, feeling oddly empty at the thought. Ellaria laughed.

“Sweetheart, your capacity for surprise is already stretched to the maximum- cut yourself a little slack.” She patted Sansa’s shoulder, gently, setting a full plate of breakfast in front of her. It was a new experience for Sansa, who had never really had anyone cook _for_ her before. She had always been the one to do that for Petyr and her brother.

“Thank you.” Sansa murmured. It smelled delicious- it was a shame her stomach was so knotted up. “Has he come out of his room yet?” _Do you know if he’s okay?_

“I brought him a plate earlier.” Ellaria reassured her. “Daemon is coming to take him bowling in a few hours, so that you can meet the Starks without any extra worries.”

Sansa appreciated that Ellaria called them ‘the Starks’ and not ‘your parents’ more than she knew how to vocalize. She decided on a grateful smile instead, and the older woman seemed to understand- her eyes softening as she nodded at Sansa.

“That’s good.” Sansa managed, after successfully swallowing a bite of breakfast. “The toast too- certainly- but I meant that it’s good that Daemon is taking him.” She paused, looking down at her plate, a twinge in her chest. “I’m glad he’s talking to someone about all this, at least.”

She hoped Robin would forgive her soon- she had to figure out where they were going to go this summer, and really didn’t want to separate herself from her little brother while he was dealing with so much.

“He’ll come around, Sansa.” Ellaria reassured her, sitting next to her at the table. “He’s a teenager with too many emotions and not enough experience to deal with them just yet.” She smiled, gently. “God knows I’ve seen this kind of thing from Doree and Loree before, and they aren’t having to hold even half of what you and your brother are dealing with.”

Sansa managed a watery smile her way.

“I’m surprised Robin didn’t try to get Agent Sand to take him to play laser tag.” She sniffled. “He loves that.”

“Oh he did.” Ellaria declared, baldly. “I think he would have suckered Daemon into it, too, if Oberyn hadn’t pitched a fit about security.” She grinned at Sansa, who managed to laugh at the image, feeling slightly better about her brother as she took another, tentative, bit of her French toast.

* * *

**12:45 pm, Saturday, in Braavos**

When a sullen Robin came to meet Daemon Sand at the door, the agent wasn’t surprised. ‘Sullen’ seemed to be Robin’s default setting since he had lost his temper with Sansa the other day at the station. He could hardly blame the boy- both of the kids had been dealt a pretty terrible hand in life so far- and Robin was dealing with middle school on top of that.

“Hey kid.” He greeted, giving a slight grin as Robin nodded at him. Every bit counted, at this point. “What’ve you got?”

Robin was holding a piece of folded paper with some very colorful designs on it, and kept flicking his eyes down towards it. Daemon tried not to crane his neck _too_ much to see it, but he managed to catch a lot of writing on the inside. A card, then.

“Sansa and Mya made me a card.” He mumbled, fingers gripping it a bit more tightly than necessary. Daemon suspected that Robin felt more than a little guilty after yelling at Sansa the other day, but also suspected that the kid didn’t entirely realize what he was feeling yet. Either way, he didn’t seem inclined to let go of the card his sister had given him any time soon.

“That’s a pretty big card.” Daemon observed, noting the small upward tilt to Robin’s mouth.

“Mya has big handwriting.” He responded, opening it again. “Sansi’s is smaller and really curly though.”

“What did they say?” Daemon asked, waving to Ellaria on her doorstep and opening his passenger side door for Robin to hop in the car. Daemon had spent most of yesterday afternoon brainstorming something he could do with Robin to keep him occupied while Sansa met the Starks- he was a sensitive kid, despite appearances to the contrary, and Daemon wanted to keep him from picking up on the inevitable stress Sansa would experience. It was also his hope that keeping Robin out from underfoot would make things a little less stressful for Sansa as well.

Robin had perked up at the thought of laser tag, but Daemon couldn’t ensure security in a place like that, and had carefully suggested an alternative. So, in a weird turn of events, Daemon was taking the kid bowling. Oberyn had snickered at the thought when Daemon had called him about it, but he had gotten a long text from Sansa a few hours earlier, detailing foods that Robin liked and his various allergies. It had also thanked him for being there for Robin.

It had been an incredibly sweet gesture on Sansa’s part, especially considering everything she was trying to deal with at the moment. Daemon let his gaze flicker to Robin in the passenger seat; hopefully, they could talk about Sansa just a little bit tonight. Daemon didn’t think Robin was a bad kid at all- he was just struggling with the hand he’d been dealt, but he was taking it out on the one person likely to understand how he felt, and Daemon was hoping they could fix that.

“It's just a bunch of sappy stuff.” Robin muttered, still refusing to set the card down.

“What kind of sappy stuff would that be?” Daemon asked, beginning to drive.

“Mya told me to hang in there.” Robin said, staring down at the writing again. “that I was a ‘tough cookie’. She drew a really weird looking cookie in it, too.”

“Remind me who Mya is?” Daemon asked, furrowing his brow.

“Sansa’s best friend.” Robin responded, crossing his arms.

“What’s she like?”

“She’s pretty cool.” Robin admitted, somewhat begrudgingly. “She does rock climbing- she said she would teach me if-“

He cut off abruptly, turning to face the window.

“If what?” Daemon gently pressed.

“If our father said it was okay.” Robin mumbled, so quietly that Daemon almost didn’t hear him.

They were quiet for a moment. Daemon hoped that if he gave enough space, Robin might begin to actually talk. A few minutes later, it actually paid off.

“Agent Martell and Ms. Sand talked to me this morning about it.” Robin muttered. “After you told me on the phone that father wasn’t my actual dad.”

“Oberyn mentioned that.” Daemon answered him, flicking his eyes over to the boy as they drove towards the ferry. “How are you holding up so far?”

“Fine.” Robin bit out.

Daemon remained silent. 3…2…1…

“I just don’t understand!” Robin exploded. Daemon suspected he would see tears if he turned to look at Robin, and determinedly kept his eyes forward. The last thing he wanted to do was to spook the boy.

“What don’t you understand?”

“Why would my mother do this?” Robin yelled, gesturing furiously. “I mean- what was so bad about this Jon Arryn guy that she literally just ran away?” he sniffled. “I mean- didn’t she think about what would happen when she left? When she _lied_?”

Daemon inhaled, sharply. Robin didn’t seem ready to place any blame on Baelish at all- he’d been expecting it- but it might make it difficult to talk about Sansa.

“I don’t know what your mom was thinking when she left with you.” Daemon admitted, steering onto the ferry. “It’s hard to know now that she’s gone.”

“Father couldn’t have had anything to do with it.” Robin shook his head. “Mom was the flighty one.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Robin shuffled, uncomfortably, and the car was silent for a moment.

“She was kind of erratic.” He mumbled. “She would change her mind a lot. She never got mad at me, but she would get on Sansa a lot if things weren’t perfect.” He shrugged. “She got kind of paranoid before she got sick.” He turned away again. “I guess she was worried you were gonna find us.”

“Why did your mom give Sansa a hard time?” Daemon frowned slightly. Robin shrugged.

“I don’t know. She was just really strict with Sansa.” He muttered. “Not that she needed to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sansa’s just- she’s just good at everything.” Robin snapped. “She always gets good grades, and everyone likes her and she’s really good at drawing and cooking and dad always told her so! She could get away with anything because he always liked her best!”

He was breathing heavily, fists clenched, and Daemon was glad he had put down the card that Sansa and her friend had made for him before he accidentally crushed it.

“He always liked her best.” Robin muttered, roughly wiping the tears away from his face with his arm. “Why would she betray him like that? Why would she help Agent Martell arrest him?”

Daemon didn’t miss the fact that Robin apparently didn’t hold _him_ accountable for any of it, but he didn’t dispute it for now. The kid desperately needed to know that someone was in his corner, and for now, wasn’t willing to believe that Sansa was.

“Sansa’s not his daughter, though.” Daemon pointed out, quietly, as the ferry began to move. “How did you feel when you found out your mom had taken you away from your biological father?” He was careful not to say ‘your real dad’.

“I-“ Robin paused, biting his lip, “I was confused.” He finally managed to get out. “I didn’t know what to think.”

“Do you think Sansa might have felt the same way?” Daemon asked, carefully.

“Sansa never gets confused.” Robin scoffed. “She always knows what she’s doing- she’s always so stupidly calm.”

Daemon chuckled a bit. Robin glared at him.

“That sounds a bit like my older sister.” He admitted. “She was always the smart one- always had her shit together- gave me a rough time because I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life for a while.” He looked back towards Robin. “She was always a force of nature- so determined and strong and hard-working.” He paused. “And then, out of the blue, I got a call that she was in the hospital. She’d tried to hurt herself, but fortunately, they were able to fix her up.”

“Why would she do that?” Robin asked, slowly. Daemon could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

“She’d been really stressed for a really long time.” Daemon told him, a bit of a sad smile on his face. “She always felt like she had to be perfect, and so she never told us if she was confused, or if she was hurt, or if she doubted herself at all. She kept it all in- so she looked perfect, but was really struggling with herself and the things around her.”

“But why wouldn’t she tell anyone?” Robin asked, still seeming confused.

“She didn’t want us to worry.” Daemon shrugged. “She spent a lot of time worrying about everyone else, and I spent a lot of time being annoyed at how perfect she was- until, suddenly, she just wasn’t.”

Robin was silent for a moment.

“Do you think Sansa does that?” he asked, slowly. Daemon nodded. Robin was a smarter kid than he suspected people gave him credit for.

“I think Sansa worries about a lot, and I think she might not want to show you how upset she is about everything right now, because she doesn’t want you to have to worry more.” Daemon told him. Robin’s face crumpled, and he looked like he might cry at the slightest push. Daemon wished he could go easy on the kid, but some things just had to be said.

“Do you think Sansa loved your father?” he asked Robin, softly.

“She- she made him a really fancy red velvet cake for his birthday a couple months ago.” Robin muttered, lip trembling. “She stayed up almost all night to pipe icing letters on it for him.”

“Sansa agreed to give Oberyn her DNA because she wanted to exonerate your dad.” Daemon told Robin. The boy’s eyes widened, near comically. “She did it because she didn’t want your dad to have done something as bad as taking her from her biological family, and she wanted us to know that he was innocent too.” He paused. “But he wasn't. He'd hurt her biological family terribly, and he had hurt her, without her ever knowing. Do you think that’s fair to Sansa?”

“No.” Robin muttered, crossing his arms against his chest.

“She’s having trouble with this the same way you are.” Daemon told him, gently. “But Sansa may not let you see how upset she is, because she doesn’t want you to worry.” He met Robin’s watery-blue eyes. “But she’s the one person in the world who might be able to imagine feeling how you feel, because she’s going through the same thing right now- finding out she’s not who she thought she was, and that her parents weren’t her parents.”

There was a long, pregnant pause while Daemon drove. It was nearly eight minutes before Robin spoke again.

“What if she’s too mad at me to want to talk?” he asked, sniffling. There was an undercurrent of real fear there, and Daemon’s heart went out to him.

“Do you think that Sansa would ever be too mad to talk to you?” he asked, gently.

Robin shook his head, lip trembling.

“Then there you have it.” Daemon assured him. “Kid, I promise you, you get to be as mad as you want to be about this situation. It’s really damn shitty, and nothing erases that.” He pulled a grin for Robin, who looked like he was trying not to smile at Daemon’s language. “But Sansa’s always taken care of you, right? Always tried to make you feel better when you were sad?”

“Yeah.” Robin muttered, looking out the window.

“Well, what if you try to do the same thing for her?” Daemon asked, shrugging. “I think she might need a shoulder to cry on, and I think it would mean a lot to her if you tried to help her out. Besides-“ he waggled his eyebrows, leaning over to tease Robin, “-you can always be as mad at Oberyn as you want. You’ve totally knocked him off his rhythm- it’s hilarious.”

Robin actually did laugh at that, looking for a brief second like a kid again. The rest of their ride was quiet, but Robin seemed far more thoughtful than before, and Daemon hoped that at least some of what he had suggested would stick.

For Robin’s sake, as well as Sansa’s.

* * *

**1:15 pm, Saturday, in Braavos**

“Sansa!” Ellaria called gently, interrupting the game of monopoly Sansa was playing with Loree, Doree, and Obella. They’d been at it for an hour, now, and the girls seemed determined to cheer Sansa up by any means necessary. They were energetic and sweet, and Sansa adored them already, even if she was still worried about Robin and their impending houseguests. “Oberyn called, sweetie.”

Sansa’s stomach dropped. It felt like going down the first big hill of a roller coaster, but instead of the sun and wind kissing her face, everything was just dark and sickening, and she was plummeting into a world she didn’t know and couldn’t see.

She forced a smile for Ellaria.

“They’re on their way, aren’t they?” she softly asked, grateful for the way Obella gently took her hand. She smiled at the other girl, eyes crinkling at the kind gesture.

“He just picked up Ned and Catelyn from the airport.” Ellaria told her, her eyes kind and voice gentle. “They’ll be here in about half an hour.” She paused, studying Sansa carefully. “Is there anything I can get you, sweetheart?”

Sansa shook her head, no, but Loree was already jumping up excitedly.

“I have some really nice orange blossom tea Sansi- want me to make some for us?”

Sansa briefly relaxed at the excited look on the girl’s face.

“That sounds wonderful, Loree- thank you.” She gave the younger girl as wide a smile as she could manage. Obella squeezed her hand, and it didn’t escape Sansa’s notice that Doree deliberately went past a property on her next turn so that Sansa could buy it instead.

She felt her eyes fill with tears as Loree excitedly set several mugs in front of them and brought out a plate of shortbread she and Doree had made the other day. The cookies were slightly burnt- the girls were still learning how to bake- but as the girls took turns making increasingly ridiculous jokes to try and make Sansa laugh, she thought that they were the best cookies she’d ever tasted.

* * *

**1:56 pm, Saturday, in Braavos**

Sansa looked up at the two figures that entered the room, and her first thought was an odd realization that would have seemed out of place, had any of this been even _slightly_ normal.

 _So that’s where the height comes from._ She thought, looking at Ned Stark. He was a tall man, with a long, somber face, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. His wife- Gods, her _mother_ \- gave off a sort of frantic energy that almost made Sansa flinch. She looked like her sister, Sansa thought, but less harsh. Both she and Ned Stark had hopeful expressions on their faces, and Catelyn Stark looked as though she’d been crying, her hand tightly gripping her husband’s.

She was relieved when Oberyn came in behind them. He gave her an encouraging nod from behind the other two and followed them in to guide everyone towards the kitchen table.

“Sansa?” Catelyn asked, taking a step forward, eyes glassy. Her hands were slightly wrinkled, and she looked _different_ from the woman in the video that Sansa had come to associate with Catelyn Stark. Her spine was straight, her shoulders back, even as her eyes betrayed her anxiety.

Sansa wondered how much this woman could read on her own face as she stood up to greet them, smoothing her skirt, nervously. The collared blouse and her deep yellow skirt were all clothes that Sansa had made herself, within the last six months. The embroidery on the collar of her shirt had earned her extra credit from one of her design professors- little red anemone flowers with vines twining around them that had drawn praise from her normally stoic instructor. Sansa had spent an hour and a half the night before frantically trying to figure out what to wear with Mya's help, and had settled on one of the only outfits she had with her that was hers alone.

It hadn’t seemed kind to meet the Starks while she was clothed in garments that the man who ruined their lives had given her.

She stood up slowly, smoothing her skirt again with nervous hands. Ned Stark was gripping the edge of the doorframe like he’d seen a ghost- ashen white and wide-eyed. Catelyn was shaking, slightly, but came closer towards Sansa, a look of utter astonishment on her face.

“Hello.” Sansa whispered, as Catelyn came closer, cradling her face in smooth, warm hands. She could feel tears in her eyes- she hadn’t wanted to cry, but apparently the mood in the room was contagious.

“My baby.” Catelyn whispered, stroking a thumb across her cheek. There were tears escaping the woman’s eyes now- her _mother’s_ eyes- and Sansa barely had time to prepare before Catelyn had thrown her arms around her, shaking with barely concealed sobs.

Sansa froze, briefly, but let herself sink into the embrace- trying to forget how little she knew of these people. They had suffered so much from her disappearance- the least she could do was let them have this. She let her arms close around Catelyn, and realized that there were tears running down her own cheeks.

They weren’t tears of joy, or tears of sorrow- Sansa desperately tried to fit her feelings into one of those boxes, but more than anything, she was anxious, and she was terrified of making some sort of misstep. She’d alienated Petyr, after all. What happened if the Starks didn’t want her, either? She suddenly felt cold, and realized that Catelyn had stepped back, staring at her with an expression of awe- like Sansa was some sort of priceless artwork to be admired.

Eddard Stark stepped forward now, and it was _amazing_ the way his entire face softened when he met Sansa’s eyes. All the harshness she had seen melted away, and he looked as hopeful as his wife.

“Sansa?” He breathed, seeming frozen in place, as though she were a fawn in the woods that could be scared away by a single loud noise or sudden movement. Briefly, the absurd thought that he would be a terribly interesting subject to sketch crossed Sansa’s mind.

“Hi.” She managed to stammer, summoning a shaky smile that Ned Stark slowly matched.

He stepped forward, and then, letting out a strangled sob, tucked Sansa against his broad chest, his arms wrapping around her as she embraced him back. Sansa felt her own breath hitch, and then she was crying _again,_ and Catelyn was hugging her for a second time. Sansa suspected that her knees were about to give out as she shook- like the still standing husk of a burning tree, the lightest breeze could probably have knocked her over.

She didn’t know what to think. These were her _parents-_ her _actual_ parents- but nothing felt like it should. She didn’t automatically fit into the hug with the two of them (wasn’t that what always happened in books?), and there was some awkward adjusting, and Sansa had to deliberately practice the breathing technique Mya had shown her, so that she didn’t start hyperventilating.

It was just too much. Everything about this had been too much, but she had to keep calm. She couldn’t lose it. If Robin heard that she had panicked now, she would never get him to agree to meet with Jon Arryn. _Gods._ How on earth was she supposed to convince Robin to do anything right now? She was a mess.

She focused on her breathing, and several minutes later, when Ned and Catelyn had pulled away, they all stood, giving each other nervous grins with varying degrees of sincerity. Sansa was pretty sure that Ned and Catelyn's smiles were genuine, but she wasn't sure whether her own was or not.

Ellaria guided them over to the table, bustling around and setting out several mugs of tea on the table. Sansa sniffed hers as she sat, and tears sprang to her eyes at Ellaria’s kindness- it was the lemon-black tea that she loved; she had told Ellaria earlier that it was her favorite blend. She took a few large sips, trying to keep her hands from shaking. The bitter, slightly sour taste was calming, and she managed to even her breathing as Catelyn spoke.

“So- tell us!” Catelyn sniffled, just a bit too brightly. “About you!”

“What- what do you want to hear?” Sansa sniffled, trying for a smile. Catelyn was beautiful- it was unnerving both how much she resembled Lysa, as well as Sansa’s own face.

“Anything.” Ned answered, his thick accent muggy with emotion. “Everything.” He had the most expressive eyes Sansa had ever seen in a person- a piercing gray that could easily have been called silver.

“We’d love to know anything you want to tell us.” Catelyn took her hand, squeezing it. Sansa let her lips curve upwards, and Catelyn looked as though she was on the verge of a fresh batch of tears.

“Um-“ Sansa felt mild panic, as though her mind had gone blank- what would they want to know? What _did_ she want to tell them?

 _They don’t really know me._ Sansa thought, somewhat nauseous as she tried to think. _They don’t know how I loved Petyr- cared for the man that hurt them._ There was another horrifying thought. _They would look at you with disgust if they knew._ Her mind whispered. _If they knew that you had so completely betrayed them._

The voice sounded like Petyr, and Sansa desperately tried to banish his image from her mind. He had never really _hurt_ her, after all. She just needed to think of what to say- _anything_ that wasn’t about Petyr.

Fortunately, her guardian angel picked just then to make an appearance, saving Sansa from the anxious storm brewing in her own mind.

“Sansa's a student at Braavos Central.” Ellaria returned briefly to set down a plate of lemon cookies that looked far prettier than the shortbread the girls had offered her earlier. "She was telling me about her program earlier- it sounded fascinating." The implication that Ellaria had barred both Doree and Loree from the kitchen while making these cookies was both amusing _and_ centering, and Sansa managed to take a deep breath, relaxing marginally as Ellaria winked at her before leaving again. 

“Oberyn mentioned that on the phone earlier.” Ned smiled at her, eyes crinkling. He had a very kind face, she decided. There was something sort of severe about his features that reminded her of Arya, but when he smiled, it transformed his whole countenance. “What are you studying?”

“Fashion design and merchandising.” Sansa blushed, as Catelyn gave her a wide grin in between her tears. “I- I always liked sewing when- er- when I was younger.“ Sansa mentally winced at the reminder of her childhood, but the Starks seemed to be hanging on to every word. Catelyn hadn’t let go of her hand, and Ned had one of his hands on his wife’s back, as if reassuring himself that they were both still there. “I liked the historical costumes-“ she heard herself continue, “-from all of the old stories.” She blushed. “I tried to make a Dornish dress for Halloween, once.” She admitted. “In the style they would have worn during the war of the Five Kings.” Catelyn clapped her hand over her smile as she hiccupped, and Ned’s grin could have outshone the sun.

“How- how old were you?” Catelyn tentatively asked. She looked so eager that Sansa found herself replying almost instantly.

“Eight.” Sansa responded, almost sheepishly. Ned threw his head back, giving a joyous laugh. “I was- I was ambitious.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Catelyn whispered, looking wistful. “Are there- I mean- do you think we could see-“ she broke off, dabbing her leaking eyes with a napkin.

“I might have a picture on my phone.“ Sansa murmured, not entirely sure of what she was offering. “If- if you wanted, that is.”

She had been planning to play it cool- to keep it together. Oberyn had reminded her earlier that there were no _expectations_ on her- and here she was, volunteering to show them a photo from her childhood. She couldn’t quite pick out _why,_ but there was a part of Sansa that so _desperately_ wanted their approval now that they were here and real in front of her.

“We’d love to.” Ned answered, his voice thick. Catelyn didn’t seem to be able to summon the words, but nodded.

“My best friend sent it to me last week-“ Sansa felt herself saying as she scrolled through her texts, “She was trying to convince me not to worry about a pattern drafting exam- that I'd been doing it too long to worry about the grade.”

She finally found it, lifting her phone with shaking hands to show the picture of her eight-year-old self near one of the canals, and next to a 3-year-old Robin in a cute red wagon. She remembered being so proud of that dress- she’d tried to learn embroidery just so that she could embellish the front. It looked like a mess to her, now, but she remembered how impressed her fath- how impressed _Petyr_ had been with her. The thought of Petyr while she was with Ned and Catelyn made her stomach twist uncomfortably, and she had to stop herself from grimacing.

Ned’s eyes widened at the photo, and he slowly reached a shaking hand out to zoom in on little Sansa. Catelyn promptly burst into sobs, her shoulders shaking violently as she saw the picture. Sansa felt stricken.

“I’m- I’m sorry!” she told them, panic creeping into her tone. “I didn’t want- I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Ned Stark looked up at her with those bright eyes and gave her a slow, sad smile.

“Sansa, sweetheart-“ he murmured, “You have _nothing_ to apologize for. _Nothing._ ”

Sansa could only nod wordlessly, biting her lip as Catelyn dried her face, sniffling as she looked back up at Sansa with red eyes and a bright smile.

“I’m sorry-“ Catelyn apologized, dabbing at her eyes, “I’m just- we’re just so happy-“ she broke off briefly, taking a deep breath. “You must be a very good seamstress now, if you were making things like that when you were eight.” The amount of _compassion_ in her eyes as she looked at Sansa was unlike anything she had ever seen. It certainly was nothing like the way that Lysa used to look at her- it was almost disorienting. “We would love to see some more of your work sometime.”

She sounded so eager, and Ned looked so hopeful that Sansa looked down, flushing as she fidgeted with the ends of her skirt.

“Well I made the outfit I’m wearing-“ she managed to get out, “-if that counts.”

Catelyn looked astonished, her eyes hungrily devouring Sansa from head to toe, and Ned had a soft, almost proud, smile on his face.

“The embroidery as well?” Catelyn asked. Sansa nodded, managing a soft smile.

“What kind of flowers are they?” Ned asked softly, indicating the design around her collar.

“Anemones.” Sansa blushed. “They’re- well, there’s an old Volantine myth about how they were created from the tears of a goddess.” Ned and Catelyn seemed to be hanging on to her every word and it was a little disconcerting. Even Mya, who had always wanted to know the inspiration for Sansa's pieces, had never looked this engaged with the mythology of Sansa’s designs. “I- I liked the story.” She finished, lamely.

“They’re lovely.” Catelyn breathed. “And such a cute skirt!” She grinned at Sansa, her river-blue eyes curving up slightly.

“I like bright colors.” Sansa admitted, feeling more than a little embarrassed at the admission. “In my clothes, at least.”

“You’ll have that in common with Rhaenys, at least.” Catelyn smiled.

Sansa experienced a moment of mild panic, desperately trying to remember the chart she’d made earlier. Arya had been sending her a lot of memes in between names, and her memory didn’t seem to want to recall any of it.

“Er- Elia and Lyanna’s daughter?” she managed to remember, drawing a surprised look from Catelyn.

“Yes-“ she sounded astonished that Sansa would know that. “Did Oberyn tell you about everyone?” she asked.

“I- ah- I had a bit of inside help.” Sansa admitted. Catelyn still looked bemused, but Ned smiled.

“Arya?”

Sansa nodded, giving a thin smile.

“She’s been lovely.” She told them, meaning every word. “She helped me with a few of the names during dinner.” _And she keeps sending me galaxy-brain memes now._

“I know they’re looking forward to getting to meet you.” Catelyn told her, hope shining in her eyes.

“But we can go at your pace.” Ned interjected, giving Catelyn an amused look. “It’s a lot, I’m sure.”

Sansa felt her words stick in the back of her throat, and she managed just to nod, feeling tears pool in her eyes for some reason. Fortunately, Oberyn’s timing was just as good as Ellaria’s, and Sansa wondered how closely the two of them were listening in the hall.

“Ah, she’s already got Arya in her corner.” He chuckled, clapping Ned on the shoulder as he surveyed the scene. “You just stick with her, Sansa, and I’m sure she’ll gladly stab anyone who gets too close with that saber of hers.”

Sansa felt a near hysterical giggle bubble up in her throat at Oberyn’s glib remark, and Catelyn looked as though she didn’t know whether to laugh or scold the man. Sansa met Ned’s eyes, and he gave her a slow nod and a steady smile.

It was Oberyn’s surreptitious wink, though, along with a glimpse of Doree and Loree comedically trying (and failing) to see what was going on from the balcony above the stairs, that truly helped Sansa to relax enough to fall into a decent conversational rhythm with the Starks.

It wasn’t perfect yet- but it was something, Sansa realized, as she made Ned laugh, telling him and Catelyn a story about Robin as a child. She could come to care for these people, after a bit, she thought. They seemed kind, and eager to know her, and that was something of a novel experience in and of itself.

Maybe this wouldn’t be quite so horrible, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not gonna lie, having Rhae call Aerys ‘gramps’ in conversation with Jon is something I find VERY funny. Also, this took forever to get done because the chapter itself is MASSIVE (even with me making cuts and moving things around) and also super emotionally charged. You guys don’t seem to mind the long chapters though, so that’ll probably be the name of the game for a while. (this chapter also took forever because I had to help one of my sisters evacuate from Hurricane Dorian, and the other one was visiting from halfway around the world where she lives, so things have been a little busy recently). 
> 
> But you guys asked- and have been asking- and this is the chapter where it finally happens! Sansa meets Ned and Cat!!! It tore my heart out! It was emotionally a mess, and quite frankly, that might be a theme for the next few chapters. Reunions, man. What can you do?
> 
> Sansa has sort of a ‘baseline of unease’ from living with Petyr- she almost doesn’t really recognize what’s normal and what isn’t. She has a nasty tendency of seriously repressing her emotions, and she’s going to need to do some work on that so she doesn’t completely overwhelm herself. We'll see much more of that going forward.
> 
> I did not plan that scene with Robin and Daemon in the SLIGHTEST, but I actually ended up loving it. Robin’s being a bit of a little shit, but if anyone gets to be a little shit, it’s him, because the kid has a LOT on his plate. He loves Sansa a lot, though, and I think Daemon’s suggestion of ‘taking care of Sansa’ is going to resonate with him more and more as the story goes along.
> 
> We got to see quite a bit more of Jon in this chapter- interacting with Robb, with Sam and Gilly, and chatting with his sister and Arya. There are some hints at the dynamic between the Stark/Targ family members that we’ll get to unwrap more and more as the story continues. I loved writing the scene where Jon chats with Rhae on the phone- they both picked their careers in part because of what happened to Sansa, and they’re the two who are going to be most involved in her case going forward. 
> 
> I hope everyone loves Ellaria, Oberyn, and the girls as much as I do. The level of empathy contained within teenage girls can absolutely astound you, and it was a lot of fun to write them trying to cheer Sansa up via poorly played monopoly and over-baked cookies. Also, Ellaria is an actual angel.
> 
> Sansa/Arya interactions are really fun to write- I think Arya’s a really compassionate person with a heavy dose of ‘no-bullshit’, and that sort of dynamic is comforting to Sansa, because it’s nothing like Petyr or Lysa. Getting a bit more into Arya and Gendry’s relationship was interesting as well- Arya is a super strong person with some funny insecurities like all of us, and she really really wants to make sure she’s doing what’s best for Sansa- she just doesn’t entirely know what that is yet, so she’s sending Sansa lots of funny texts and more memes than should be humanly possible.
> 
> Also, big shout-out to Samwell Tarly for immediately grasping the complexity of the situation. I know Robb doesn’t seem to be handling it well, but remember that he’s the only Stark child who actually remembers Sansa and her kidnapping- that’s enough to kick-start a massive guilt complex that can manifest in the form of some risky behaviors. Jon is so used to Robb being, well, Robb, that he’s probably not the best person to pick out that Robb’s behavior isn’t entirely normal. We’ll go there in the story, I promise. 
> 
> Thank you all so SO much for all of your kind words, lovely reviews, kudos, and all of that. You guys leave me such lovely comments on this story, and it just makes it even more fun to write a story I already love when I know that all of you are enjoying it as well. To those of you who write me essays: I love you. To those of you who write me anything: I adore you as well, you lovely humans. To the people commenting on every chapter: If I could nominate you for sainthood, I would. You’re all lovely, delightful people.
> 
> Next time, we’re going to do something a little different- more in the vein of a few character studies. We’re going to get a sense of the dynamics of the Stark/Targ family, and see how the different members interact with each other, and learn a bit more about each of them, and how they react to the situation. We’ll also get to see a bit of domestic bliss featuring Lyanna and Elia, because of course Jon calls his moms on the regular to chat, and especially calls them in the wake of this particular event. It’s a bit more light-hearted, because we need a bit of a breather from all of this emotional weight, and the format is going to be a bit unique. You’ll see :)


	8. Interlude: Texts from Westeros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ‘Winterhell™’ groupchat is crazy active, everyone’s taking the piss out of everyone else to avoid their own stress, Jon catches up with his moms, Sansa makes plans for her Sunday afternoon, and there is a serious amount of Sarcastic Sibling Energy going on.

“If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance.” 

**― **George Bernard Shaw,** **Immaturity**  
**

* * *

**9:50 am, Saturday: Oldtown**

**11:50 am, Saturday: Winterfell**

_[1:50 pm, Saturday: King’s Landing]_

_[7:50 pm, Saturday: Braavos]_

“Morning Ama.”

“Hi sweetheart. How are you holding up?”

Jon sighed, swirling the cup of coffee in front of him and watching the milk slowly mix with the black coffee.

“I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. How long are we going to be able to keep this from the press? And when are Aunt Cat and Uncle Ned going to get there?”

“So many questions.” Elia Martell’s gentle voice came through the phone, steady and calm. “They should be there right now- Cat texted and said that they met Sansa, but I haven’t heard much else. As for the press, I think we’ll be alright for now. Your uncle is working overtime to keep this quiet, although he’s been texting Lya and I all morning.”

“Yeah.” Jon sighed. “I know he’s got it covered. Arya’s a bit on edge though.”

“She got to meet Sansa, didn’t she?”

“She said she seemed nice.” Jon replied, taking a generous sip of the coffee. “Almost too nice, and too calm for the situation, according to Arya.”

“We can’t all be quite so vocal as Arya.” He could hear the smile in Elia’s voice. “I’m sure the poor girl doesn’t know which end is up. It’s wonderful that she’s alive though.”

“Uncle Oberyn is going to be insufferable.”

His mother laughed, loud and long.

“I think this time, he’s earned the right to be a little insufferable.”

“Ugh that’s exactly what Arya said, Ama.” Jon groaned.

“She’s a smart girl. How is Robb?”

“A human disaster.” Jon winced. “Talisa took him home last night though, so he at least wasn’t freaking out in my living room for more than one night.”

“He’s in good hands, then.” Elia told him. “She’s got a solid head on her shoulders. Besides, Robb’s always blamed himself a bit for Sansa’s disappearance, even though you were both far too young to really know what was going on. It wouldn’t surprise me that he’s struggling with this.”

“Yeah, I’m glad Tal came to get him.” Jon sighed. “I really don’t know what to say to him, Ama. I’m nervous to meet her too- but I just keep thinking that there are so many of us- how’s she going to deal with all of it?”

“It’s not exactly the kind of situation that comes up regularly, sweetheart.” His mother told him. “All we can do going forward is make sure that we’re listening to Sansa, and giving her the space and support that she needs. For me and your mum, that probably will mean reminding Cat to relax and give Sansa and everyone breathing room. For you, it could mean supporting Robb when he needs a place to land, or helping your brother get time off work to come up to Winterfell this summer.”

“…You talked to Rhae already, didn’t you? That sounds like her idea of a bad joke.”

“She called me and your mum right before you did, sweetie.” Elia laughed. “If it wouldn’t upset your brother so much, I would call Rhaegar myself. But he won’t mind nearly so much if you tell your dad you both need the time this summer.”

“Yeah, I’m going to call him later.” Jon muttered, mentally swearing at the lack of coffee in the coffeemaker. “How on earth did Rhae beat me to calling you this morning? It’s not even 10am on a Saturday.”

“Well she didn’t get to talk to Lya.” Elia laughed. “And it’s almost noon here. Your mum’s only woken up about 20 minutes ago- she’s almost through her first cup of coffee. Go easy on your sister. She just wants to help out- she knows that you and your brother are stressed out.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jon mumbled. And he did. Rhaenys had the habit of knowing everything about everyone and periodically interfering in everyone’s lives when she thought someone needed a push, or could be struggling. It came from a good place, and usually had good results, but he had no idea how Rhae managed it without losing her mind. Willas’ interference, he suspected.

“I have to run, sweetie- I need to take Rickon to practice. We can catch up about how your exams are going later, okay? Do you want to talk to mum?”

“Sure- thanks Ama.” Jon told her, smiling gently despite himself. “Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetie. Wish me luck with Ricky- one of your old friends, Tormund Giantsbane, is an assistant coach for his team now. The practices are considerably intense.”

“Oh _God._ ” Jon groaned. “Good luck. Talk you you later, Ama.”

“Bye sweetie.”

There was a brief rustling before Lyanna Snow’s voice came over the phone.

“Hey kiddo.” His mum’s raspy voice greeted. “How’s life?”

“As well as can be expected, all things considered.” Jon told her. “You know, people back from the dead, Robb having an existential crisis in my living room last night, law school exams- the usual.”

“Very funny.” Lyanna snorted. “You keep an eye on that boy- I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a mess and a half.”

“I let him drink the nice bourbon.”

“That’s my boy.” Lyanna said, laughing. “You don’t have Thorne this semester, right? He’s the one who said all those shitty things about Sansa’s case?”

“Yeah that was him, mum.” Jon sighed. “But I don’t have classes with him right now, and he’s not the only one who’s going to start throwing speculation around when the story breaks. I know it’s selfish to say, but I’m really not looking forward to trying to find a quiet place to study for exams if the press gets ahold of this, and decides to follow Robb around.”

“Oberyn said something yesterday about getting you two a security detail in Oldtown when the news breaks.” Lyanna hummed. “It was in between absolutely crowing about solving the case on the phone. Mostly to me- El stopped being impressed with her brother years ago, and for some reason, he thinks I’m a better target.”

“A security detail? Seriously, mum?” Jon scoffed, running his hands through his hair and pacing around his kitchen.

“You don’t remember what it was like when she went missing, Jon.” His mum told him, her voice uncharacteristically heavy. “There were reporters everywhere, and a lot of people didn’t care whether the starks were innocent or not. I couldn’t go to work without being swarmed by my colleagues, who knew I lived at Winterfell, and a lot of people wanted to assume the worst about Ned and Cat." She sighed, deeply. "Cat actually got attacked by someone when she was grocery shopping with Bran and Arya, and she was a mess for weeks afterwards. It was the story of the century back then- my boss at the Wintertown Star wanted me to get an exclusive with them, and I almost lost my job when I refused. Thank god for Jeor Mormont- he’s a good editor, but a better man, and he made them back off of me. He couldn’t do much to stop the tabloids from eating the Starks alive, though.”

“They wanted you to cover the case? That’s awful.” Jon wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“That’s the business.” Lyanna snorted. “It’s going to be another shitshow at the paper when this gets out, but I’m planning to ask Jeor to help us keep a lid on it. People got really out of hand last time, and I don’t want you and Robb, or any of your friends, to get harassed by the paparazzi every time you set foot outside your apartment.”

“Okay, fine.” Jon grumbled. “Security, then.”

“It’ll make your Ama happy too.” Lyanna pointed out, and Jon could hear the smile in his mum’s voice. “She’s worried about all of you- Egg because he’s working with that asshole, Rhae because she gets involved with solving everyone’s problems but her own, Robb because the poor boy has a guilt complex the size of the reach about Sansa, and she worries that you’re going to be under too much scrutiny when you’re trying to get through your exams.”

“I’ll be fine. You and Ama can worry about Robb, Rhae and Egg.” Jon grumbled.

“Oh we are.” Lyanna agreed. “But me and your Ama know you, kiddo. You and Elia are too much like each other- you internalize things and worry about everyone else but yourself.”

“You just said that Rhae does that.”

“Yeah, but Rhaenys has an adoring, wealthy boyfriend- soon-to-be-fiancé if I had to guess- to look out for her.” his mum pointed out. “And you haven’t dated anyone since Ygritte.”

“Law school isn’t exactly a picnic, mum.” Jon scowled. “And Egg is single too.”

“And I worry about your brother just as much- although at least he calls me regularly, even if it’s only to bitch about Rhaegar. It’s not a personal attack, kiddo. Just an observation that neither your Ama nor I want to see any of you struggle with this. It’s not exactly a common situation. There aren’t really hallmark cards that tell you what to say to your adoptive family when their sister comes back from the dead, solving the case of the century."

"There really aren't." Jon chuckled. "Maybe that's a market to look into."

"You can get on that." Lyanna's tone was dry, but sounded amused at the idea. "Gods, your uncle is going to be completely insufferable about this entire thing.”

“That’s exactly what I said!” Jon exclaimed, throwing up his arms. Lyanna just chuckled.

“We’ll keep his head from getting too big, don’t worry kiddo.”

* * *

**12pm, Saturday: Oldtown**

**2pm, Saturday: Winterfell**

**4pm, Saturday: King’s Landing**

**10pm, Saturday: Braavos**

**Groupchat: Winterhell™**

**Robb:** Alright bitches we’ve got planning to do

 **Robb:** Mum and dad MET Sansa TODAY apparently and we have to figure out what we’re all going to do about it

 **Arya:** Who the hell put you in charge

 **Bran:** ^seconded

 **Robb:** Someone has to coordinate this!! We need to celebrate!!

 **Robb:** our sister is _alive_ you cretins 🤩

 **Theon:** excuse me what the actual FUCK stark

 **Jon:** ….Robb, I thought we agreed YOU were going to tell Theon

 **Rickon:** lmfao noice

 **Aegon:** HAHAHAHAHA THEON

 **Theon:** guys what the hell do you mean ‘Sansa’???

 **Jon:** Call me, idiot. I’ll explain

 **Arya:** Nice going, Robbert

 **Robb:** IT’S BEEN A BIT OF A LONG DAY OKAY

 **Robb:** IT’S NOT EVERY DAY A DEAD RELATIVE COMES BACK TO LIFE

 **Arya:** Jesus fuck Robb

 **Arya:** so dramatic

 **Arya:** Please don’t do this when she comes back

 **Arya:** you’re going to scare the shit out of her

 **Bran:** So wait she’s coming here? When?

 **Arya:** Idk man- haven't talked to mum n dad about it yet- but I can’t imagine that she’s staying in Braavos

 **Arya:** the press is going to eat us alive when they get wind of this

 **Rhaenys:** I’m sure Uncle Beryn has a plan for you guys

 **Theon:** Jesus CHRIST guys why did no one call me to tell me Martell found Sansa??? 

**Theon:** Found Sansa ALIVE????

 **Theon:** thanks JON

 **Theon:** This is like next level Maury shit

 **Rhaenys:** …exactly the sensitive reaction I anticipated from you, Theon

 **Aegon:** he’s right tho

 **Aegon:** you ARE the daughter!!!! 

**Aegon:** *raucous screaming from audience*

 **Robb:** I’m sorry but we need to PLAN guys

 **Jon:** will you chill?

 **Jon:** Let your parents actually get to know her first, idiot

 **Rickon:** ^lmfao 🤣🤣🤣

 **Bran:** Arya you met her right?

 **Bran:** what’s she like?

 **Robb:** WHAT

 **Robb:** ARYA YOU MET HER AND DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING

 **Arya:** you didn’t ask, dumbass

 **Jon:** That’s because he was at my apartment all of last night and this morning, alternating between drunk and hungover

 **Aegon:** hey no fair! Why wasn’t I invited??? 😭

 **Rhaenys:** I’m sure it wasn’t exactly a preplanned event, Egg

 **Rhaenys:** …not to mention that it’s kind of a long drive just to get pissed

 **Rhaenys:** can’t you do that in King’s Landing?

 **Rhaenys:** anyways, I want to hear the answer to Bran’s question

 **Rhaenys:** If that’s ALRIGHT with you

 **Rhaenys:** wouldn’t want to interrupt you and Robb’s whine fest about who was and wasn’t invited to get drunk @ Jon’s

 **Jon:** There was very little wine involved

 **Jon:** mostly bourbon 🥃

 **Rhaenys:** I love you, but you are on thin fucking ice Jonathan Targaryen

 **Arya:** omg Jon

 **Arya:** @Bran she’s really nice

 **Arya:** like, really fucking composed and kind all things considered 

**Arya:** I can’t believe she hasn’t had a nervous breakdown

 **Arya:** btw @Theon we’ve got a media blackout rn according to Oberyn

 **Arya:** so DON’T TELL YARA YET

 **Theon:** you ruin my fun

 **Jon:** Aunt Dany’s probably going to catch the case, so she’ll find out soon enough

 **Jon:** but you can’t say anything

 **Theon:** why does everyone think I’M the one who’s going to ruin it???

 **Theon:** might I remind u that Egg still exists

 **Aegon:** Thanks bro 👍🏼

 **Rhaenys:** I have enough blackmail on him to keep him quiet for the rest of our lives, Theon

 **Rhaenys:** that’s why

 **Rhaenys:** also Rickon if you say anything I will tell everyone about the girl you have a crush on

 **Rickon:** the FUCK Rhae

 **Rickon:** I haven’t done ANYTHING

 **Bran:** she’s right bro

 **Bran:** zip those lips

 **Rickon:** I h8 u all

 **Robb:** wait Rickon likes a girl??

 **Aegon:** ^^^

 **Arya:** IRRELEVANT ROBBERT

 **Arya:** you were the one who wanted to have this convo!!!

 **Bran:** Did you have to remind him?

 **Jon:** Also no one can tell Aunt Dany yet

 **Jon:** or significant others

 **Jon:** You guys are gonna terrify her

 **Jon:** Sansa, that is

 **Jon:** Aunt Dany knows you’re all assholes already

 **Aegon:** I resemble that remark

 **Bran:** ^tru

 **Jon:** that wasn’t an ENCOURAGEMENT Egg

 **Jon:** Maybe we all take a fuckin' chill pill??

 **Jon:** Arya seems to have managed it long enough not to TERRIFY Sansa

 **Arya:** thanks bro 👀

 **Rhaenys:** we should figure out what we can do to make her feel welcome at Winterfell?

 **Rhaenys:** if she comes to Westeros, that’s where she’ll be, right?

 **Jon:** Rhae, you are a fucking angel and 100% exempt from my remark about chilling the fuck out

 **Bran:** might be better not to spring everyone on her at once

 **Bran:** you guys can get pretty intense

 **Robb:** exCUSE me

 **Bran:** that comment was 100% directed at you, Egg, and Theon

 **Robb:** I’m not going to do anything to make her uncomfortable!!!

 **Robb:** I extend no such promises to Egg or Theon 😜

 **Theon:** fuck you, Stark

 **Theon:** I’ll cede to Jon, Rhae, and Bran here

 **Theon:** u guys have the braincell this week

 **Theon:** lemme know what u think is best, and I’ll help in any way I can

 **Rhaenys:** THANK you Theon <3

 **Arya:** hey wtf Greyjoy??

 **Arya:** I’m reasonable

 **Theon:** Yeah but those three are boring

 **Arya:** …you’re on thin ice but fine

 **Rickon:** u guys are ridiculous

 **Rickon:** Just tie Robb up in the basement until Sansa’s comfortable

 **Jon:** Robb is making incoherent squawking noises right now

 **Jon:** kudos Rick

 **Bran:** …that’s not actually a terrible idea

 **Rhaenys:** I have a spare pair of handcuffs we can use

 **Aegon:** Ew like I want to know what kind of shit you and willas get into

 **Rhaenys:** Aegon Targaryen don’t you DARE

 **Rhaenys:** they’re from WORK you moron

 **Rhaenys:** standard issue for agents

 **Rhaenys:** anyways we can handcuff him to the radiator pipe in the basement below the kitchen

 **Jon:** I’ll bring duct tape

 **Robb:** wtf guys??? Do I get a say in this??

 **Jon:** maybe manage to type without half falling off my couch for the SECOND time this weekend and we’ll talk

 **Bran:** you genuinely might freak her out, Robb

 **Robb:** I h8 this family

 **Bran:** Rhae do you have an extra pair for rickon too?

 **Rickon:** FUCK U BRAN

 **Rickon:** I don’t want to freak out Sansa!!

 **Arya:** lmfaoooo I am on BOARD with this plan 😏

 **Theon:** I like the part where I’m not relegated to the basement with Robb

 **Theon:** and possibly Rickon

 **Theon:** and probably Egg

 **Aegon:** I have literally done nothing wrong, ever, in my life

 **Rhaenys:** our mums would disagree with that

 **Rhaenys:** Arya, can you call me? I know it’s late in Braavos, but I want to hear your thoughts without the filter of these idiots

 **Rhaenys:** Jon, Bran, and surprisingly, Theon excepted

 **Arya:** yeah, gimme 10 minutes

 **Robb:** So no one is on board with my idea of a welcome home party?

 **Bran:** Jesus, Robb, read the room

 **Bran:** not yet!!!

 **Jon:** ….we’re all doomed.

 **Rickon:** ^lmfao

* * *

_[12:15 pm, Saturday: Oldtown]_

_[2:15 pm, Saturday: Winterfell]_

_[4:15 pm, Saturday: King’s Landing]_

**10:15 pm, Saturday: Braavos**

**Sansa:** Hi Elissa

 **Sansa:** I’m not going to be able to make my shift again tomorrow

 **Sansa:** I’m so sorry- I can’t seem to shake this stomach bug

 **Elissa:** I’m just going to schedule other people for your shifts for the next two weeks

 **Elissa:** We can chat about your schedule when you come back

 **Sansa:** thanks

 **Sansa:** I am so sorry- I didn’t anticipate any of this

 **Elissa:** np

 **Elissa:** shoot me a doctor’s note at some point if you would

 **Sansa:** Sure

 **Sansa:** as soon as I can

* * *

_[12:40 pm, Saturday: Oldtown]_

_[2:40 pm, Saturday: Winterfell]_

_[4:40 pm, Saturday: King’s Landing]_

**10:40 pm, Saturday: Braavos**

**Sansa:** Hey Robin! ☺️

 **Sansa:** I hope you had fun with bowling today

 **Sansa:** Agent Sand told me that you beat him by about thirty points!

 **Sansa:** guess he underestimated the three time Wii bowling champion 🎳

 **Sansa:** I just wanted to give you a heads up- The Starks are coming for brunch tomorrow here

 **Sansa:** ….

 **Sansa:** You’re more than welcome to join us if you want!!!

 **Sansa:** I’m sure they would love to meet you

 **Sansa:** Ellaria’s ordering food from that place down near 3rdstreet

 **Sansa:** The Myrish restaurant you like so much!!

 **Sansa:** I’m sure she’d be willing to order something extra for you to have if you’re too tired to join us- there’s really no pressure

 **Sansa:** You’re always welcome though

 **Sansa:** Just let her know what you want tonight so she can order in the morning and you can sleep in if you want to 😉

 **Sansa:** ....

 **Sansa:** I’m so sorry that I upset you- I can understand why you’re angry

 **Sansa:** I was just so scared that they would take you away if you hadn't listened to Agent Sand

 **Sansa:** You can always come find me if you need me

 **Sansa:** if you need anything, really

 **Sansa:** Mya says hi

 **Sansa:** She hopes you liked the card

 **Sansa:** She wanted you to know that she was the one who drew the goofy salamanders on the inside

 **Sansa:** she was pretty proud of them

 **Sansa:** Just please let me know if I can do anything to help you, okay?

 **Sansa:** I love you 💕

 **Sansa:** Sleep well

**_Read: 10:57 pm_ **

* * *

**1:15 pm, Saturday: Oldtown**

_[3:15 pm, Saturday: Winterfell]_

**5:15 pm, Saturday: King’s Landing**

_[11:15 pm, Saturday: Braavos]_

**Rhaenys:** Thanks for curbing Robb and backing me up

 **Rhaenys:** Jeyne’s a good influence on you 😉

 **Theon:** Seriously???

 **Theon:** How the FUCK did you find out about that????

 **Rhaenys:** I’m omniscient, fool

 **Rhaenys:** Also, you live with my brother, and he’s a terrible gossip

 **Theon:** fucking hell, Egg

 **Theon:** don’t tell Robb yet

 **Theon:** it’s still a new thing

 **Theon:** I really don’t want to scare her off

 **Rhaenys:** omg that is so cute

 **Rhaenys:** my lips are sealed, bro 😉

 **Theon:** Thanks

 **Theon:** Soooooo

 **Theon:** when is Willas gonna make an honest woman of u and propose?

 **Rhaenys:** …don’t ruin the moment, Greyjoy

* * *

**1:15 pm, Saturday: Oldtown**

**3:15 pm, Saturday: Winterfell**

_[5:15 pm, Saturday: King’s Landing]_

_[11:15 pm, Saturday: Braavos]_

**Bran:** Is Robb okay?

 **Bran:** Or does he have alcohol poisoning

 **Jon:** He’ll be fine- just needs to sleep it off and start working through his anxiety like a normal person

 **Jon:** aka, without crossfit

 **Bran:** Or scotch

 **Bran:** I’ve been trying to teach him how to meditate but he’s too jumpy

 **Bran:** I just worry how he’s going to react to actually meeting Sansa

 **Bran:** he tries to hide it

 **Bran:** but I know he drinks himself to sleep every June 12th

 **Bran:** Probably because of guilt

 **Jon:** Yeah, but if you bring that up right now, you might set off a guilt spiral that even Tal can’t weather

 **Jon:** He’ll be okay

 **Jon:** We all will

 **Jon:** it’s just a… unique situation.

 **Bran:** Now you tell me

 **Jon:** Don’t worry so much about Robb

 **Jon:** We’re supposed to be the ones worrying about you

 **Bran:** I’m not the one drunk in your living room on a Thursday afternoon

 **Jon:** Seriously?

 **Jon:** Cut him some slack, bran

 **Bran:** It’s so stupid tho

 **Bran:** I wish he could see that it isn’t his fault

 **Bran:** he was a fucking kid

 **Bran:** You all were

 **Jon:** Everyone handles things differently

 **Jon:** there’s a time and a place to talk to Robb about his stress-drinking

 **Jon:** And right now might not be it

 **Jon:** But if you want to, I’ll help you later

 **Bran:** I don’t know what to do

 **Bran:** I thought she was dead

 **Bran:** we all did

 **Jon:** I know

 **Jon:** my criminal law class covered the case in a lot of detail

 **Jon:** the odds of her safe return are nothing less than a goddamn miracle

 **Bran:** yeah but just because something’s miraculous doesn’t mean it’s good.

 **Bran:** getting struck by lighting three times in the same spot is miraculous

 **Bran:** and also likely to cause cardiac arrest

 **Bran:** Rick is so calm

 **Bran:** I don’t understand how he can keep playing video games with his friends when this fragile world is falling down around us as we speak

 **Jon:** very poetic

 **Bran:** it’s the aesthetic I go for

 **Jon:** people handle things differently

 **Jon:** Rick handles stress in his body tho

 **Jon:** you hold it in your head and overthink it

Jo **n:** literally, none of us kno what to expect

 **Jon:** there’s no precedent for this kind of case

 **Jon:** Just hang in there

 **Jon:** Cut Robb some slack

 **Jon:** We’re all doing our best

* * *

**1:45 pm, Saturday: Oldtown**

_[3:45 pm, Saturday: Winterfell]_

**5:45 pm, Saturday: King’s Landing**

_[11:45 pm, Saturday: Braavos]_

**Rhaenys:** Remember

 **Rhaenys:** if you say anything to anyone about Sansa, I’ll tell Aunt Cat what really happened to her Manolo Blahniks two summers ago

 **Aegon:** that was RICKON

 **Rhaenys:** No it wasn’t

 **Aegon:** come on

 **Rhaenys:** This is what you get for insinuating that my work handcuffs are somehow sexual IN THE GROUP CHAT

 **Aegon:** Am I not already suffering enough??!?

 **Rhaenys:** you were the one who wanted to

 **Rhaenys:** and I quote

 **Rhaenys:** ‘show dad what he’s missing’

 **Rhaenys:** you could have worked for Uncle Doran, or Uncle Ned, or even interned with Tywin fucking Lannister

 **Rhaenys:** but daddy issues prevailed

 **Aegon:** he’s just such an asshole, Rhae

 **Aegon:** but I can’t back out now

 **Aegon:** but if I have to get him one more triple-espresso five pumps of caramel and lavender latte I’m going to murder someone

 **Rhaenys:** If you want to murder dad, I’m pretty sure Uncle Beryn would let you get away with it

 **Rhaenys:** so just point it in his direction the next time you feel a homicidal urge

 **Aegon:** thanks

 **Aegon:** that makes this SO much better

 **Aegon:** we can’t all be Uncle Oberyn’s favorites

 **Rhaenys:** just hang in there

 **Rhaenys:** in six months, you’ll have enough on your resume to get hired by anyone in the world

 **Rhaenys:** I will literally kill you if you tell anyone I said this, but I believe in you

 **Rhaenys:** you’re smart, and hard-working, and you’re gonna be a much better businessman than dad

 **Aegon:** awwww

 **Aegon:** can I tell Jon

 **Rhaenys:** FINE

 **Rhaenys:** but only because he already knows

 **Rhaenys:** we talk about u, u know

 **Rhaenys:** plus Jon hates dad more than either of us

 **Rhaenys:** so he’s always down for encouragement and/or homicide when it comes to him

 **Aegon:** you know, sometimes I wonder how much you guys are kidding when you bring that up

 **Aegon:** all things considered

 **Rhaenys:** our venture into law enforcement is entirely coincidental to our rabid dislike of dad

 **Rhaenys:** besides, if anyone’s going to kill him, it’s going to be Uncle Oberyn

 **Rhaenys:** or mum

 **Aegon:** it’s probably going to be mum

 **Aegon:** it’s that northern wildness

 **Aegon:** it’s the reason Robb and Rickon are batshit crazy

 **Aegon:** I think northerners are just Like That™

 **Aegon:** and Ama would probs just let mum do it

 **Rhaenys:** you are….not wrong

 **Rhaenys:** but still, smart money’s on Uncle Beryn

 **Rhaenys:** mum doesn’t typically carry multiple knives on her person

 **Aegon:** no wonder mum and Ama fell for each other so quickly

 **Aegon:** both our families are apparently batshit insane

 **Rhaenys:** don’t look at me

 **Rhaenys:** I’m planning on marrying the most delightful, mundane, sane man and ignoring all of you for the rest of our lives

Aego **n:** good luck getting that one past our moms

 **Aegon:** plus wtf Rhae

 **Aegon:** he’s a TYRELL

 **Aegon:** they’re not exactly sane either and if ur gonna argue about this I’m going to remind u of the incident at Renly and Loras’ wedding

 **Rhaenys:** outliers bro

 **Aegon:** 2 words for u, jerk

 **Aegon:** Olenna

 **Aegon:** fucking

 **Aegon:** Tyrell

 **Rhaenys:** …three words, but you’ve made your point. I’m taking Will and moving to Yi Ti when we get married to escape all of you

 **Aegon:** I mean, u can TRY

 **Aegon:** but good fucking luck

* * *

**2:00 pm, Saturday: Oldtown**

_[6:00 pm, Saturday: King’s Landing]_

_[4:00 pm, Saturday: Winterfell]_

_[12:00 am, Sunday: Braavos]_

**Rhaenys:** Egg is really stressed out

 **Rhaenys:** I know you hate dad

 **Rhaenys:** but

 **Jon:** seriously, Rhae?

 **Rhaenys:** he likes you better

 **Jon:** I wish he didn’t

 **Rhaenys:** Just call him

 **Rhaenys:** If you talk to dad, he’s more likely to agree when Egg asks for time off this summer to meet Sansa

 **Jon:** that’s a low blow

 **Rhaenys:** yeah, but are you gonna do it now?

 **Jon:** …I’ll ask him

 **Jon:** I can’t believe you

 **Jon:** I’m going to tell ama you’re blackmailing me like this

 **Rhaenys:** only emotional blackmail

 **Rhaenys:** besides, she and mum are both working from Winterfell to watch Rickon for Aunt Cat and Uncle Ned

 **Rhaenys:** Ama’s just going to give you that look

 **Rhaenys:** I know for a fact she mentioned it to you- I brought it up with her this morning

 **Rhaenys:** and mum’s just going to laugh at you

 **Rhaenys:** take one for the team, jonny

 **Jon:** I hate you

 **Jon:** and him

 **Jon:** but mostly him

 **Rhaenys:** we all do

 **Rhaenys:** he’s the reason we’re all on anti-anxiety meds

 **Rhaenys:** but seriously, Egg is miserable right now

 **Rhaenys:** just help him out

 **Jon:** I will

 **Jon:** I wish he had said something to me

 **Rhaenys:** he didn’t want to stress you out

 **Rhaenys:** I think he knew Robb was going to occupy most of your time

 **Rhaenys:** he’s a hot mess about this Sansa thing, huh?

 **Jon:** Yeah, he’s been driving Gilly up the wall

 **Jon:** but I’ll get her and Sam theater tickets to apologize- she loves those

 **Jon:** another thing to ask dad for

 **Jon:** Gilly mention any shows she wanted to see recently? I know you 2 are theater buds

 **Rhaenys:** Dear Evan Hansen’s good

 **Rhaenys:** She and Sam both want to see Waitress too

 **Rhaenys:** Uncle Doran could probably hook you up- he helped me snag tickets to Rent for Will's and my anniversary a couple months ago

 **Jon:** that would be vastly preferable to owing dad a favor

 **Jon:** but Egg knows that I can deal with him AND Robb, right???

 **Jon:** like, he’s my brother

 **Jon:** Like, I want to know when he's got stuff stressing him out

 **Rhaenys:** he’s an insecure mess sometimes, and that gets exacerbated whenever he’s within 20 feet of dad and Jon Connington

 **Rhaenys:** it’s not you, it’s dad

 **Rhaenys:** take him out for drinks or something, sans Robb, when you see him

 **Jon:** gotcha

 **Jon:** thanks

 **Jon:** I’ve gotta run- I’m making Robb buy me and Sam dinner

* * *

_[2:25 pm, Saturday: Oldtown]_

_[4:25 pm, Saturday: Winterfell]_

_[6:25 pm, Saturday: King’s Landing]_

**12:25 am, Sunday: Braavos**

**Sansa:** Hey

 **Mya:** Eyyy 😎

 **Mya:** How you holding up?

 **Sansa:** I’m good

 **Sansa:** tired

 **Mya:** Callin' the bullshit 🐮💩🐮💩🐮

 **Mya:** you went through the emotional WRINGER today

 **Mya:** no way ur anywhere near nonchalant ☹️

 **Mya:** Robin doing ok?

 **Sansa:** We’re having brunch delivered in tomorrow

 **Sansa:** Still hasn’t said anything really

 **Sansa:** I think he’s still angry

 **Sansa:** I texted him and he didn’t respond 😢😥

 **Mya:** I say this in the most affectionate way possible

 **Mya:** No way he can be an angry lil shit for longer than four or five days

 **Mya:** He’s got a low emotional stress threshold 🤷🏼♀️

 **Mya:** Knowing Robin, the words will just bubble up outta him sometime soon

 **Mya:** He never stays mad for long

 **Sansa:** I know

 **Sansa:** probably a good thing that he doesn’t

 **Mya:** he’s not going to hold everything in and let it fester

 **Mya:** You’re his big sister 💕

 **Mya:** You’re literally Robin’s favorite person in the world

 **Sansa:** I think Agent Sand is taking that particular title at the moment

 **Mya:** well SOMEONE’S being a bit of a Debbie downer

 **Sansa:** LMAO

 **Sansa:** My bad 😅

 **Sansa:** Ur right

 **Sansa:** I’m just a lil worried about brunch tomorrow

 **Sansa:** I desperately wish you could be there ☹️

 **Mya:** If you want me there, I’ll break through a police barricade to get 2 u 

**Mya:** just give me some warning so I can prepare for mission impossible 🦸🏻♀️

 **Sansa:** HAHAHAHA

 **Sansa:** Please don’t get arrested 

**Sansa:** I luv u, and I really would rather see u when I’m not visiting u in jail 😘

 **Sansa:** I think I owe it to them to give them some time tho

 **Sansa:** Without me dragging you into the fucked up soap opera of my life just yet

 **Mya:** I luv the fucked up soap opera of ur life tho 💕💕💕

 **Mya:** and u, of course 🥰

 **Mya:** didn’t say anything to mum, but she says hi anyways

 **Sansa:** Give her a huge hug for me if ur staying with her tonight

 **Mya:** will do👌🏼

 **Mya:** Srsly tho- are you okay? I can come over again if u want company

 **Sansa:** 😘💕

 **Sansa:** Ur the best

 **Sansa:** I’m tired as hell and terrible company- hang out with ur mom instead

 **Sansa:** She’s much cooler

 **Sansa:** decidedly less dysfunctional

 **Mya:** HA

 **Mya:** that’s funny 😂

 **Mya:** Seriously, San, what can I do?

 **Sansa:** …

 **Sansa:** I was actually gonna ask if u can meet me at the house tomorrow afternoon

 **Mya:** Your house?

 **Mya:** Sure

 **Mya:** Am I bringing eggs? Tp? Spray paint?

 **Mya:** 🥚🧻🎨??????

 **Sansa:** haahahahaha nooooo

 **Sansa:** Just yourself

 **Sansa:** I think they want me to come spend summer in Westeros

 **Sansa:** I don’t have most of my things at Oberyn & Ellaria’s

 **Sansa:** I haven’t been back yet- Oberyn grabbed a few outfits for me the other day but I think I have to pack for a whole summer

 **Sansa:** I need more underwear lmao

 **Mya:** Say no more

 **Mya:** I’m there 👍🏼

 **Sansa:** you’re the best 💕

 **Sansa:** I just

 **Sansa:** I don’t want to go alone.

 **Mya:** You won’t have to.

 **Mya:** I’ve got u

 **Mya:** Oberyn seems like a chill guy- I’m gonna have to meet him soon

 **Mya:** He’s gotta be cool if Ellaria’s anything to go by

 **Sansa:** they’ve been amazing

 **Sansa:** I have no idea how to even start repaying them

 **Mya:** I don’t think they’re gonna expect u to 

**Mya:** but we can talk about that later

 **Mya:** Go to bed, u loon

 **Sansa:** good idea

 **Sansa:** tired af

 **Mya:** I knowwww

 **Mya:** stop trying 2 be superwoman and get ur butt in bed

 **Mya:** luv u

 **Mya:** Text me what time tmrw

 **Sansa:** luv u too

 **Sansa:** I will

 **Sansa:** Thanks Mya

 **Mya:** I gotchu

 **Mya:** now SLEEP u loser

 **Mya:** I’m ur emotional support cattle prod

 **Mya:** S L E E P 😴

 **Sansa:** I’m going!!!!!

 **Sansa: 😜** 💕

* * *

_[11:15 pm, Sunday: Oldtown]_

_[1:15 am, Sunday: Winterfell]_

_[3:15 am, Sunday: King’s Landing]_

**9:15 am, Sunday: Braavos**

**Sansa:** Sorry to bother you if you’re at the station working-

 **Oberyn:** Not a problem in the slightest 😁

 **Oberyn:** Everything okay?

 **Sansa:** All is good

 **Sansa:** I was planning to get some of my clothes this today from Petyr’s house

 **Sansa:** I just needed to check if my friend Mya Stone could join me

 **Oberyn:** There’s a list of approved visitors to the property

 **Oberyn:** Anyone who can get behind the police line has to be on it

 **Oberyn:** If you can send me a pic of Mya’s gov’t ID, I can add her name to the list ASAP

 **Oberyn:** when were you planning to go?

 **Sansa:** Early afternoon

 **Sansa:** Thank you so much!

 **Oberyn:** Not a problem in the slightest

 **Oberyn:** Let me know if you need a ride there

 **Sansa:** Ellaria said she was able to take me over, and Mya’s walking distance

 **Sansa:** Thank you, though!

 **Oberyn:** Good stuff

 **Oberyn:** She’ll probably be fine with it, but if you want your friend to come over and stay for dinner, just check with her first

 **Oberyn:** I’m 100% good with the concept

 **Sansa:** Definitely

 **Sansa:** The girls will love her

 **Oberyn:** Awesome 😁

 **Oberyn:** Gotta run and get back to work

 **Oberyn:** Daemon’s hassling me

 **Oberyn:** Hang in there, kiddo

* * *

**12:40 pm, Sunday: Oldtown**

**4:40 pm, Sunday: King’s Landing**

_[2:40 pm, Sunday: Winterfell]_

_[10:40 pm, Sunday: Braavos]_

**Aegon:** Just had a convo with The Bastard that didn’t make me actively want to walk into the fucking ocean

 **Aegon:** Something about spending part of my summer working remotely from Winterfell?

 **Aegon:** U have anything to do with this?

 **Jon:** You cannot leave me to face Rhae by myself

 **Jon:** Please- you’ve gotta come home

 **Aegon:** Did Rhae guilt u into talking to him?

 **Jon:** Nope

 **Jon:** Ama

 **Aegon:** …Of course

 **Aegon:** On the condition that U help me avoid Rhae’s interrogation as well

 **Jon:** We’ll tag team

 **Jon:** Got a fake relationship plotted out, yet?

 **Aegon:** If Rhae doesn’t chill, I’m considering it

 **Aegon:** Although I think she’s distracted with the Sansa thing

 **Aegon:** When we were texting earlier, she didn’t mention it at all

 **Aegon:** I wonder if she found out Theon’s got a gf- she could be harassing him abt it

 **Jon:** He has a gf???

 **Aegon:** She’s pretty cute too 😂

 **Jon:**??????? ??? ????

 **Aegon:** Ask him yourself, dude

 **Jon:** he hasn’t said ANYTHING

 **Aegon:** Yeah well u knew about Arya’s bf before me, so we’ll call it even

 **Aegon:** also

 **Aegon:** Arya’s been kind of quiet lately anytime I text her

 **Aegon:** way different from Rick, who’s giving me the most detailed possible play-by-play of his soccer game

 **Aegon:** He didn’t bite anyone this time, but apparently kicked a kid in the stomach for making a gross remark about Ama

 **Jon:** We taught him well👌🏼

 **Jon:** Bet Tormund didn’t even try to penalize him for it

 **Aegon:** According to Rick, ur absolutely right

 **Aegon:** but Arya

 **Aegon:** How’s she doing?

 **Jon:** …probably sleeping

 **Jon:** it’s the middle of the night in Braavos

 **Aegon:** I know THAT, jerk

 **Aegon:** I’m not doing international business with Mr. 'Stick-Up-The-Arse' Targaryen for nothing

 **Aegon:** I know how time zones work

 **Aegon:** But she wasn’t responding much to me earlier either

 **Aegon:** Or Robb

 **Jon:** I haven’t really heard from her since the group chat

 **Jon:** I think she has her last exam on Monday?

 **Jon:** She was probably with Gendry or studying

 **Aegon:** I just can’t imagine being the one to make the first impression with Sansa

 **Aegon:** It’s a lot of pressure

 **Aegon:** I’m nervous as hell to meet her at Winterfell

 **Aegon:** When are you headed home?

 **Jon:** Uncle Oberyn hasn’t really given me any indication of when they’re headed back

 **Jon:** But my last exam is Tuesday morning, so I was going to book a flight that afternoon/evening

 **Jon:** U talk to him at all today?

 **Aegon:** just a bit

 **Aegon:** He said they were giving Sansa a bit of breathing room

 **Aegon:** Trying to go at her pace

 **Jon:** That’s good

 **Jon:** I’m a little worried about her meeting everyone

 **Aegon:** …You mean meeting Robb?

 **Jon:** I mean, I’m a little concerned that he’s gonna turn on that ‘big-brother’ thing he does anytime anyone’s having a hard time

 **Aegon:** Yeah I can see that

 **Jon:** he’d approach the whole thing just wanting to protect and help Sansa-

 **Aegon:** but how’s Sansa going to react to that?

 **Aegon:** I’m almost a little worried about her meeting Rhae for similar reasons

 **Jon:** Yeah that’s actually a really good point as well

 **Aegon:** less weighty to have a convo with Rhae about it tho

 **Aegon:** I’ll try to sound out Robb if u talk to Rhae

 **Jon:** Deal.

 **Jon:** I’m a bit worried about the inevitable trial though

 **Aegon:** the fuck, man??

 **Aegon:** isn’t that a bit far ahead?

 **Jon:** I can’t help but think about the legal implications

 **Jon:** They may assign Aunt Dany as the prosecutor

 **Aegon:** …

 **Jon:** You know how intense dad can be about work stuff?

 **Aegon:** don’t get me fucking started, bro

 **Aegon:** I’m about one passive-aggressive comment away from a manslaughter conviction against JonCon

 **Jon:** I know a guy who’s really good with those charges if it comes to that

 **Jon:** But the point is that Aunt Dany is MORE intense than dad when she’s working on a case

 **Aegon:** You’ve gotta be kidding me

 **Aegon:** Looks like ur gonna have to chaperone

 **Jon:** Better than working with Uncle Viserys

 **Aegon:** I’ve been just avoiding him like the plague while I’m here

 **Aegon:** No way we can let him meet Sansa

 **Jon:** 100% no

 **Aegon:** …u might wanna talk to dad about that when the story breaks

 **Aegon:** he’s the only one Uncle Viserys ever listens to besides gram and gramps

 **Jon:** why am I always the one who has to ask dad stuff???

 **Aegon:** Because he likes u best, loser

 **Jon:** I would literally give my left arm for him to stop

 **Aegon:** yeah, I feel that

 **Jon:** Hang in there, man

 **Jon:** You're literally the best of them

 **Aegon:** awwwwww thanks jonny

 **Jon:** ...are you and Rhae ever going to drop that?

 **Aegon:** Not in a million years, jonny

* * *

**3:10 pm, Sunday: Oldtown**

**7:10 pm, Sunday: King’s Landing**

**5:10 pm, Sunday: Winterfell**

**1:10 am, Monday: Braavos**

[REDACTED]: Release it

 ** _[REDACTED]_** **:** When?

[REDACTED]: As soon as possible

[REDACTED]: Get it done

 ** _[REDACTED]_** **:** I’ll drop it as soon as you make the first payment

[REDACTED]: Done

[REDACTED]: should take about an hour to process

[REDACTED]: Immediately, you understand?

 ** _[REDACTED]_** **:** Understood

 ** _[REDACTED] :_** Should be enough to make the 10pm news in the capital

 ** _[REDACTED]_** **:** I’ll expect the second half as soon as it releases

[REDACTED]: Just do it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of a breather, letting us get to know a few of the characters in a decidedly lighter format then we’ve been working in lately. I enjoyed writing in text format- it allows for a different perspective on a few things, and lets me set up some exposition and flesh out a bit of detail. (the formatting was HELL tho tbh) I hope y’all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! (the time stamps are mostly so I could keep everything straight, but they'll be helpful if anyone's confused about the fact that the next chapter is probably going to resume on Saturday evening in Braavos).
> 
> There’s some deliberate humor going on here, because often, that’s how people deal with big, difficult events like this. I’ll tell you, it was a lot of fun to put together. I’d love to hear what your favorite one-liners from the chapter are- I’m torn between Jon saying “I wish he didn’t” about Rhaegar, and Rhae’s “I’m omniscient, fool.”
> 
> We get to see more of the Stark/Targ groups, and get a feel for how certain characters are handling things. There is a TON of sibling energy going on in this particular chapter which was fun. Robb’s a bit of a ham here, but remember that it’s pretty easy to keep people from seeing how you actually are when you’re just texting. He’s like an onion with all those layers- you get a bit more about him from the characters around him. 
> 
> You get to see some of the dynamics between the characters more, here. Rhae is nosy and all-knowing, Aegon’s a goof that gets really thoughtful quickly when he’s talking to his siblings, Theon’s doing his best, Bran’s pretty stressed about Robb’s behavior, Jon’s annoyed he always has to be the one talking to Rhaegar, etc. 
> 
> Next time, we’ll get to see brunch with Ned & Cat + Oberyn, Ellaria, the girls, and possibly Robin. We’ll follow Sansa and Mya back to the Baelish house to pack, and see Sansa learning that it’s next to impossible to keep any kind of secret for long. Next chapter's definitely going back towards our previous, more serious tone, and I'm REALLY excited to finish it and share with you guys.
> 
> Thanks so SO much for all of your kind reviews and comments and kudos’ and subscriptions- it still ASTOUNDS me how much you guys seem to enjoy this, and I could not be more thrilled! I was looking at fic recs on tumblr the other day (I’m @Mkstrigidae on tumblr) and TWO WHOLE PEOPLE put this story in their rec lists which absolutely blew my mind. Thank you, everyone!!! You’re all lovely people.


	9. Ain't It Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oberyn and Daemon try to solve more than one problem at once, brunch is served, and Sansa is overwhelmed in so many different ways.
> 
> There are five stages of grief, and the most violent and distressing of them all is anger.

“A secure sense of connection with caring people is the foundation of personality development. When this connection is shattered, the traumatized person loses her basic sense of self. Developmental conflicts of childhood and adolescence, long since resolved, are suddenly reopened. Trauma forces the survivor to relive all her earlier struggles over autonomy, initiative, competence, identity, and intimacy.”

**-Judith Herman, Trauma and Recovery**

* * *

**SATURDAY, 10:47 pm, Braavos**

“You know, somehow I didn’t expect to keep working weekends nearly as often once we actually _found_ Sansa and Robin.” Daemon muttered. It was nearly 11pm on a Saturday, and he and Oberyn were combing through a mountain of subpoenaed paperwork. “These records are a pain in the ass.” He complained, running his fingers through his hair.

Oberyn chuckled at the display, but Daemon knew his partner was just as tired as him- if his appearance was anything to go by. There were a pair of reading glasses perched on the bottom of his nose, rather than his typical contacts, and he hadn’t bothered to change out of the nicer clothing he’d worn to dinner with the Starks.

“At least Braavosi gun laws are strict.” Oberyn told him, flipping through another file.

“Yeah, well Meerenese law isn’t.” Daemon groaned. “Records of an astonishing amount of firearm sales, but not even a peep about who buys what, or even where it gets made.”

“Once we get through those, though, Westeros should be easy enough, comparatively.” Oberyn pointed out. Daemon hummed in agreement. There was a silence as they continued their search, and, eventually, Daemon lifted his head to glance at Oberyn again.

“Something you wanted to ask?” Oberyn drawled, without looking up from the file he was studying, the glasses giving him a much more intense look than normal.

“How is Sansa holding up?” he asked, softly. 

Oberyn gave a long, belabored sigh, closing the folder in his lap, swiveling his chair to face Daemon, and clasping his hands together.

“That-“ he told Daemon, looking utterly serious, “-is an incredibly difficult question to answer. I can make a guess, but it’s very difficult to say whether I’m right or not. She’s- well, incredibly reserved, and I think most of her feelings are locked down at the moment”

“She and her brother are practically opposites, then.” Daemon chuckled. “I had a talk with Robin earlier today- asked him how he was doing after learning that Baelish wasn’t his biological father, and he practically exploded with emotions.”

“Oh?” Oberyn raised a brow.

“He had a surprisingly accurate take on Lysa’s temperament.” Daemon told him. “It was a more… mature view than I was expecting from a fourteen-year-old, in that regard. Said she was all over the place and a bit paranoid- he mentioned that she would give Sansa a hard time on occasion.”

“She’s been incredibly reluctant to discuss anything with Lysa.” Oberyn pursed his lips. “It’s starting to concern me.”

“He also brought up that Baelish seemed to favor Sansa over him-“ Daemon continued, propping his feet on an empty desk, “-said that Sansa was the ‘perfect child’, and let slip that Lysa was pretty strict with her.”

“From what we can glean, Lysa had been obsessed with Baelish for decades.” Oberyn pointed out. “If Baelish was showing Sansa that level of favoritism, it may have provoked Lysa to lash out at her.”

“Overall, the introduction of Lysa and Robin into Baelish’s little ‘family’ doesn’t seem to make much sense.” Daemon muttered, thinking. “I mean- having a wife and another kid certainly lends him some legitimacy, but I don’t know that even Baelish is patient enough to handle Lysa’s attentions for that long.”

Oberyn gave a frustrated sigh.

“It keeps coming back to that.” He muttered. “There are just pieces that we’re _missing_ here.” He stood up, beginning to pace. “Baelish was obsessed with Catelyn, where Catelyn’s sister was obsessed with him- I mean, if getting Catelyn was his motive all along, he’d be more likely the execute some elaborate scheme to murder Ned, for god’s sake.” He shook his head. “But so far, Sansa’s fervently denied any attempts on Baelish’s part to initiate anything inappropriate, and it’s hard to know whether she _genuinely_ thinks Baelish did nothing, or whether she’s trying to keep from getting him in further trouble.” He pointed out. “Being psychologically dependent on a person, even if you know they did something horrible, can lead victims to defend their abusers pretty faithfully.”

“And what do you think?” Daemon asked him, carefully.

Oberyn seemed to be thinking very carefully about his words.

“I think that I believe her when she says that nothing like that happened.” he answered, honestly. “As horrible as Baelish is, based on our evidence, I don’t think he’s attracted to children. But I think that there are certain types of behaviors that predators use to groom their victims as they grow older, and I suspect that there may have been a few of those that Sansa doesn’t consider odd, simply because she doesn’t have a baseline for how normal parents behave.”

Daemon could read between the lines.

“You think he intended for Sansa to be a replacement for Catelyn?” he asked, feeling disgust wash over him at the prospect.

“I think that probably _was_ part of his motive.” Oberyn sighed. “He gets a girl who, for all intents and purposes of his, looks exactly like her mother. He gets to raise her, mold her into whatever he wanted her to be, until she was old enough for him to actually initiate some sort of perverse façade of a relationship.”

“You swallow a dictionary, recently?” Daemon snorted.

“Bella’s been studying for college placement exams.” Oberyn chuckled, not looking embarrassed at all. “She’s been doing a lot of vocab lately and I was helping her with flashcards for about two straight weeks before we started working endless overtime.”

“Right now, I’d take a placement test for fucking _physics_ if it means we don’t have to keep combing through gun records.” Daemon groaned, letting his head fall back.

“Of the two of us, you _are_ the analyst.” Oberyn pointed out, smirking at him. “You should be used to this sort of thing.”

“I don’t think a case like this is something you ever really get used to.” Daemon admitted.

Oberyn’s face immediately grew sober.

“I’m not sure anyone can get used to this.” He admitted. “I look at Sansa, and she’s Elia’s age, for god’s sake.”

“I mean, of all the years we’ve been working together, I never really thought we’d work anything as big as this one.” Daemon said, glancing at the pile of paper currently in his lap. “Or as twisted. I mean- we’ve come across some nasty characters, but Baelish taking Sansa as a replacement for her mother, who he’s been obsessed with for years…” he trailed off, feeling sick.

“Baelish is a sick bastard, certainly,” Oberyn agreed, “but as disgusting as his actions have been, I think Lysa’s complicity in the scheme is what’s been bothering me the most, now that we have Baelish in custody.” He admitted, sitting down with a sigh. “The level of obsessive devotion to someone to the point where she wouldn’t even tell _Catelyn_ -“

“Judging from some of Robin’s comments, she’d probably been jealous of Catelyn for a long time.” Daemon pointed out. “He mentioned while we were bowling that Sansa used to dye her hair brown and wear thick-rimmed glasses while she was in middle school-“

“Because otherwise, she looked too much like Catelyn.” Oberyn groaned, letting his face fall into his palm. “Sansa’s an _extremely_ observant kid, Daemon-“ he shook his head incredulously, “She’s probably learned to pick up on the tiniest emotional and physical cues to keep herself safe, but I don’t know how aware she is about that particular behavior.”

“It’s a textbook response to emotional abuse as a child.” Daemon pointed out. “I don’t think it entirely spared Robin, either. He’s a teenager, sure, but I think he’s been carrying around a lot of anger for a while, and he doesn’t entirely understand why.”

“Do we know what his relationship with Lysa was like?” Oberyn asked, frowning. “Sansa was under the impression that Robin really idolized Baelish.”

“I think he desperately wanted to believe that Baelish did nothing wrong.” Daemon finally managed to answer. “He really didn’t want to talk much about his mother- which sends up another flag for me. As far as Baelish- I think that his initial assumption was that Sansa turned him in on purpose, and his reaction to that was to resent her. I think his jealousy at the way Baelish treated Sansa compared to him made him angry that she’d throw all that away just to talk to _us_.” He sighed, running thin fingers through his hair. “It’s complicated- teenagers are _exhausting_ , and it’s been a while since I was one.”

“What did you say to him?” Oberyn asked, curiously, ignoring his complaint.

“That part of the reason Sansa agreed to give us a DNA sample was because she wanted to exonerate Baelish.” Daemon shrugged. “A big part of her _did_ want to clear him, I think.”

Oberyn nodded in agreement.

“She behaved as though she was reacting to the familiar.” He muttered, drumming his fingers on the desk. “She’s accustomed to Baelish’s behavior, and doesn’t see it as abnormal, but there’s a part of her, subconsciously, that realizes that he’s dangerous.” He gave a deep sigh. “Like I told you before, I’ve never seen anyone presume guilt as quickly as Sansa when I explained what we suspected Baelish had done. He’s a man who spends his time being prepared for every eventuality, and I’m starting to suspect that he passed that particular trait on to Sansa.”

“If Lysa was as paranoid as Robin described, she may have picked up on that as well.” Daemon suggested. “Robin seemed to avoid that particular trait, fortunately, but when we chatted earlier, he seemed angrier at Sansa than anyone else.” Daemon could feel his own frustration at the words, trying not to get worked up. “He clearly does look up to Baelish- he was placing blame on Sansa for talking to us about him, especially considering his observation was that Sansa was Baelish’s favorite of the two.”

“All things considered, it’s a miracle Baelish kept Robin around after Lysa’s death.” Oberyn morbidly pointed out.

“He’s got a cover to maintain.” Daemon found himself responding.

“I have a feeling that if we chat with Robin a bit more, we’ll uncover some other reasons.” Oberyn mused. “Sansa’s very protective of Robin- she loves him more than almost anybody.” He shrugged. “I would be willing to bet that Baelish decided to leverage that, use it as an added layer of control over Sansa.” He muttered. “I’ve seen abusers do that in a number of my previous cases- it’s an effective measure to keep their victims complacent.”

Daemon took a minute to consider that point- feeling sick to his stomach at the implications.

They were quiet for a while after that, carefully flipping through the records, and bringing up a few ideas- none of which they could corroborate with their existing evidence. They had run through the records of every Westerosi citizen in the Marine Corps- the only military division the scorpion modeld were ever issued to- and had found nothing substantial.

Daemon was learning that the Marine Corps had far more snipers than he was expecting- it was an uncomfortable revelation. They’d only managed to get the records thanks to the deputy director- Brynden Tully had apparently called in several favors from General Selmy, and from the way several Marines had come and dropped the files off with irritated looks on their faces, the Blackfish had not asked nicely.

Daemon was checking through production records when he had an idea.

“What if we’re going about this the wrong way?” he suddenly asked Oberyn, who looked up from his own file to raise a brow. “We’re assuming that the gun belonged to the sniper, correct? That it was bought?”

“You think differently?” Oberyn asked, resting his arms on his chair as he listened.

“There seem to be several different large companies responsible for the manufacture of scorpions, but with tax laws lax in certain countries, it lends the owners a decent degree of privacy.” He explained.

“You’re suspecting the owners of some of these factories are involved?” Oberyn asked.

“I have a feeling that if we run through manufacturing ledgers, you might see a small discrepancy in actual production numbers versus the raw materials used by the manufacturers.” Daemon explained. “It’s not entirely uncommon in certain countries- hell, even the Stormlands have some of the loosest manufacturing regulations in all of Westeros- it makes it easier for manufacturers to embezzle from their companies. It’s why we see so much manufacturing in specific areas.” He pulled up a map on the computer screen in front of him, gesturing to Oberyn. “The Red Waste in particular has next to no protections for workers, and provides almost complete anonymity to manufacturers and those who’ve invested in them.”

“Please don’t tell me this means we have to dig up whatever shell companies these bastards are using to avoid legal and moral consequences.” Oberyn groaned. Daemon resisted the urge to grin.

“If we can trace the owners of the facilities where they manufacture scorpions in any way, we might come across someone who’s financially connected to Baelish in one way or another.” He pointed out. “Like you said, Baelish has no shortage of enemies, but It would have been easier to keep yourself from being linked to a hit on the man if he received a rifle that, according to financial documents, never technically existed.” Daemon shrugged. “We did suspect that the gun had been modified, which almost suggests to me that it was a newer weapon for our sniper.”

“Next time I talk to the Blackfish-“ Oberyn groaned, letting his head fall back, “-I’m going to outright blackmail him into giving you an assistant- this is going to take forever, especially working with your old partner.”

“You don’t completely suck at analytics.” Daemon grinned at him. He ducked as Oberyn chucked a file in his direction. “Just the computer part.”

“You know what?” Oberyn asked, testily. “I’m just going to have him demote you instead.”

“Sure thing.” Daemon chuckled. “That’ll just leave you to go through all this information yourself.” He paused. “I do think that we need to get the fraud analytics group involved in this if we want to figure this out before next year, though.”

“Alright-“ Oberyn rubbed his temples, raising his hand in a ‘one second’ gesture, “Let me make sure I have this straight. You think that the scorpion was new to the sniper- that he obtained it specifically for this hit only, and that it was provided by whoever ordered this hit. You think that whoever ordered the hit has a connection to one of the manufacturing plants that makes the scorpions, and that this particular weapon was made off-record, so any manufacturing documents aren’t really going to help us, unless there’s a difference in what you would have _expected_ them to manufacture, versus what they actually did. You also think that whatever manufacturing location we’re looking at is in a place with considerably looser regulations.”

“It’s only one theory-“ Daemon nodded, “-but we’ve been combing official records of who owns firearms of this sort, and we’ve found nothing so far. It seems worth looking into.”

“Grab the financial analysts then.” Oberyn finally told him, looking distinctly deflated at the thought. It was almost amusing- Oberyn Martell was one of the best and one of the smartest agents that Daemon had ever met, and he had a near inhuman insight into how people worked and how to get inside their heads. He could read through medical files with the proficiency of a physician, but tracking through finances was an easy way to put the man asleep.

Fortunately for him, Daemon was a far more enthusiastic analyst, and was just glad to have a lead to follow, even if it was still theoretical. He took a hard look at the pile of documents in front of him- there had to be an answer in there _somewhere._

* * *

**Sunday, 3:17 am, Braavos**

Sansa’s eyes snapped open, and she found herself gasping for breath and unable to move. Her limbs were stiff, and there was something in the back of her head screaming at her.

The room around her was still dark- she took a few more gathering breaths, and after a few minutes, she found herself able to move again. She shakily sat up, reaching for the glass of water she had set on the night table before going to bed, taking a sip to calm herself. She immediately made for her sketchbook, swearing under her breath as she rummaged through her bag for a pen.

“C’mon-“ she muttered, frantically, “Yes!” she whispered, grabbing one to uncap.

Sansa was determined to remember the dream she had woken up from, but she could feel it slipping further with every minute she was awake. She sat on the floor, scribbling frantically as she tried to remember every detail.

Her hair had been down, she remembered. It was unusual, even in a dream- Sansa almost never wore it down. Where had she _been_? She squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately to remember, but the details of the dream were fading carefully away even as she tried to grab them.

She knew that the horrific sounds that had pulled her awake had come from a gun- that someone had been shooting. They’d been in the airport hangar, but for some reason, Lysa had been there- her face just as gaunt as Sansa remembers it before her death.

Robin had been there too, she remembered, fighting the nausea bubbling up her throat- he’d been screaming for her, and then _at_ her as well, when Lysa had whispered in his ear. He’d blamed her for everything- said awful _vile_ things- all of them Sansa’s fault.

She knew that Petyr had been there. He had been speaking softly- whispering something in her ear that she couldn’t bring to mind now. Sansa let out a shuddering breath, remembering the terror she had felt when she woke up earlier.

She could barely remember anymore, but she knew there had been _something_ else.

She sighed, setting down the sketchbook where she’d written down everything she could recall, sitting back to lean against the bedframe on the floor.

_Why couldn’t she remember anything more?_

She curled her knees up to her chest, hands shaking slightly as she wrapped her long arms around her freckled legs. She’d always known that Petyr didn’t have freckles, but Sansa had always assumed that she’d inherited the trait from Lysa- from the woman she thought had given birth to her.

Seeing Catelyn earlier- seeing her freckled face and arms- and then seeing Lysa in her dream had been jarring, to say the least. It was such a small thing, really, but it had forced Sansa to think of Lysa again- of how difficult she had been. Of how difficult she had made things for Sansa.

It pushed at the very boundaries of the plausible to think of Lysa and Catelyn being siblings- of sharing the same blood. There had been a strange warmth in Catelyn’s eyes that Sansa had never really seen before- not even in Petyr- and it had been disorienting for Sansa to have all that warmth directed at _her_.

When she finally forces herself back into bed, getting up from the floor on shaky legs, it took a while for her brain to calm down, and she couldn’t seem to stop the worries crowding her head. Was she ever going to be able to look at Catelyn without thinking about her sister? Was Elissa going to fire her if she couldn’t come to work next week? Sansa needed to text her again. Was she even going to be able to work if the news broke? It was a worrying thought- she needed the money for school supplies, and she would have to come up with a quick alternative if the shop let her go.

Sansa didn’t even know where she would _be_ this summer- she didn’t know if she would be able to remember everyone’s names- didn’t know if she could bear to separate from Robin right now.

Her stomach flipped, uncomfortably. She didn’t even know when Robin would be willing to _talk_ to her again.

* * *

**Sunday, 7:45 am, Braavos**

When her alarm goes off, Sansa had managed almost five hours of sleep, in between nightmares and stretches of anxiety, but she dutifully dragged herself out of bed at 7:30am. She couldn’t wreck her entire sleep schedule because of one bad night, and she needed to make sure that she looked nice when the Starks arrived for brunch.

When she had dragged herself through the motions, showering and dressing, she took a moment to check her phone, only to find that Arya had texted her, attaching a picture of Gendry. He’s sitting on a couch, clearly asleep, if the way his head is fully tilted back, mouth open with actual _drool,_ is any indication.

**Arya:** what do u think?

 **Arya:** airhorn could do the trick

Sansa openly grins, taking a few moments to tap out a message back.

**Sansa:** Try kiddie music instead

 **Sansa:** ‘It’s a small world’ is probably the cruelest thing you could play to wake him up

 **Sansa:** Plus u won’t piss off your neighbors

 **Arya:** BRILLIANT

 **Arya:** I’ll send u a vid later

She rolls her eyes, grinning, and sets her phone down to brush through her hair. She hates having it down, and braiding it into a casual updo is often the most relaxing part of her morning. Sometimes there’s music involved, but, this morning, Sansa is just happy to sit in the silence.

Silence which is, oddly enough, interrupted by a knock on Sansa’s door. She freezes the instant she hears the knock, but forcing herself to relaxe, inwardly scolding herself for reacting that way. She opens it, pasting a small smile on her face, only to feel her mouth drop open as she takes in Robin- still on the disheveled side, and in his pajamas.

“Good morning!” Sansa manages to greet, repasting on her smile. “You sleep well?”

“Yeah.” Robin muttered, ducking his head as his face flushed. Sansa’s mouth quirked a bit on one side- she’d seen this expression before.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked, gently.

He nodded, following her in to sit on the side of her bed. Sansa sat back down in her chair, giving him a reassuring smile. If she knew Robin, it wouldn’t take long.

“I’m sorry!” he finally blurted out, his face bright red. “I didn’t-“ he gave a heavy sigh, still not meeting Sansa’s eyes, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you at the police station.”

“You were upset.” Sansa told him gently, coming over to sit on her bed next to him. He was getting taller, she realized. He’d probably tower over her by the end of the summer. “It’s- it’s a lot to take in.”

Robin pauses, fidgeting next to her.

“Can I ask you something, Sansi?”

“You can always ask me things.” Sansa smiled at him, praying it was a question she could answer.

“Why did you give Agent Martell a DNA sample?” he asked her, quietly meeting her eyes.

The pit drops out of Sansa’s stomach as he stares at her, hope and pain and something she can’t quite identify in his eyes.

“I was hoping it would prove his innocence.” She sighed, looking down at her own intertwined hands. “I was hoping it would help.”

It _was_ actually the truth, but only a part of it. Sansa still, after all, isn’t entirely sure why she agreed so quickly to Oberyn’s request for a sample. She’d been so exhausted from exams and late nights studying, and any way she considered it, the decision had really been a no-brainer once Oberyn put the idea into her head. Once he had done that- suggested that Petyr wasn’t what he claimed- she had needed the truth.

Sansa would never had spoken this aloud- she didn’t even like _thinking_ it- but there was a part of her, deep in her head, that still wasn’t entirely sure if she had made the right decision.

“I don’t know what to do.” Robin whispered, deflating slightly at her answer.

“You move forward.” Sansa told him, feeling tears build up in the back of her eyes. She couldn’t let them fall though- this was Robin’s time. “You- you do the best you can.” She gave a regretful shrug. “You meet Jon Arryn, and we get to know the families, and we have the best summer that we can have.”

“But what if he doesn’t feel like family?” Robin whispered, his face threatening tears. “I like the life we have! I like where we live- where I go to school.” He muttered, wiping his eyes with his forearm. “I like having you as my sister.” He told her, not meeting her eyes.

“Sweetrobin-“ Sansa told him, still fighting off her own tears as she cradled his cheek in her hand, “ _That_ is not going to change.” She gave him a watery grin. “You’re stuck with me for the rest of your life, Robin.”

Robin nodded, silently, as a tear slipped out from one eye. Sansa gently brushed it off with her thumb, still smiling at him. After a moment, he spoke again.

“I-“ he took a deep, bracing breath, “I liked having our father with us.” He admitted, not meeting Sansa’s eyes. “I mean- he raised us- he's- he’s my father.” Robin protested, still sounding slightly unsure of himself. It made Sansa’s stomach turn to say, but she put on a gentle face and put an arm around her brother, tugging him into her side.

“You know,” she told him, softly, “That’s okay to feel.”

“No one else seems to think so.” He scoffed. “Even Daemon doesn’t talk about father like that.”

And that must have been difficult, Sansa thought, because of the pedestal that Robin had put the younger agent on. She hoped _desperately_ that that foundation that pedestal stood atop wouldn’t crumble under the stress of the investigation.

“It _is_ okay.” Sansa told him, gently. “Sweetrobin, please look at me.” He did, and Sansa’s heart broke when she saw his red eyes. “It’s always okay to feel what you’re feeling, okay? Your emotions- whatever they are-“ she let her voice break a bit, “-they’re _okay,_ Robin.”

“Yeah, but everyone else seems to think otherwise!” Robin exclaimed, and Sansa had to force herself not to wince at the volume of his voice.

“That’s the tricky part.” She tells him, giving him a sympathetic smile as she brushed his hair off his face. “They’re not you, so they don’t know how you feel, or even _what_ you feel unless you tell them. And even then-“ she sighs, feeling some of Robin’s frustration, “even then, you can’t make people think a certain way or not.”

Sansa caught sight of his lip wobbling before anything else, but before she knew it, Robin had buried his head in her shoulder, and Sansa could hear him sniffling as she pulled him close.

“Ellaria said he was flying here to meet me.” Robin sniffled. “What if- I mean, he’s supposed to be my father, but I don’t _know_ him, Sansi. What if he hates me?” he whispered, sounding utterly terrified.

“I think it would be very difficult for anyone to hate you.” Sansa reassured him, gently. “But if things go wrong, then you and I will just make our own family, okay? It’ll just be us.”

She felt him nod against her neck, and tightened her arms, desperately trying to think of reassuring words. Something else- _anything_ else- to make the situation less complicated. There wasn’t, though, she realized, looking down at her brother.

Some things, you just had to handle as they came up.

* * *

About forty-five minutes after Robin’s tearful confession, Sansa had lured him into a more gentle conversation, and he’d started to cheer back up again. He had let Sansa draw him into a conversation about the Starks- she’d showed him Arya’s video of waking Gendry up by playing obnoxious music at full-blast, and he’d actually laughed out loud.

“You’re going to come to brunch with the Starks, right?” Sansa asked him, a playful smile on her face. Robin made a face, sticking his tongue out.

“Oh come onnnn-“ Sansa pleaded, comically pinching his cheeks and reluctantly drawing a smile from his still tear-stained face. He still had baby fat, Sansa realized, with a jolt. Far too young to have his world falling around his ears like this. “They’ll love you! Besides,” she whispered, conspiratorially, “I could definitely use the moral support. You can’t make me face them all _alone_.” She was only half-joking, and there was a part of her that meant every word.

“I thought you were _good_ at that.” Robin stuck his tongue out, like a little brat, and Sansa actually laughed.

“It’s a little hard to get used to it when these are people I’m supposed to know.” She admitted, taking a bracing breath. “it’s just-“ she paused, trying to think, “It’s just tricky.” She finished, giving him a weak smile.

Robin paused for a moment, and Sansa wished she knew what was going through her baby brother’s head.

“I guess…” he began slowly, “I mean, I guess if they’re your parents, they should probably meet your little brother, right?”

Sansa’s eyes filled with tears.

“Of course they should.” She told him, burying him in a hug as he half-heartedly protested.

“Besides, maybe I could get Doree, Loree, and Bella to come too.” He snickered, and Sansa actually found herself laughing again. “They’ll talk enough that we shouldn’t have to say another word!”

“I think that sounds like an _excellent_ plan.” Sansa proclaimed, grinning at him. “Do you think you could run and ask Ellaria about it while I finish getting ready, so that she makes sure she has enough food for all of us?” she snickered, poking his nose. “Maybe you can persuade her to get some of your favorites!”

Robin batted her finger away with the long-suffering air of a teenager.

“I can do that with my natural charm, Sansi.” He scoffed, giving a small smirk, and Sansa smacked a loud kiss on his forehead. She was just so relieved he was talking to her again that she couldn’t bring herself to worry too much about brunch just yet.

“Then go and charm the daylights out of her, Sweetrobin!” she teased, as Robin got up, rolling his eyes at her as he wrestled away from her and left her room, waving her suggestion off.

* * *

**Sunday, 10:25 am, Braavos**

“How are you feeling?” Ned asked softly, taking Catelyn’s hand in his own as they drove over to Oberyn and Ellaria’s townhouse. They’d been gracious hosts, offering a room for them, but he and Cat had agreed that it might overwhelm Sansa to have them there all night.

 _“Slow and steady.”_ Catelyn had reminded him, yesterday, breathing hard when they had to leave the townhouse. Ned had felt a physical pain in his chest at the thought of leaving Sansa- of leaving their _daughter_ \- but he knew that Cat was right. He doubted she’d said it for his benefit though- she likely had been trying to convince herself.

“Angry.” She told him, looking up at him with an expression of anguish and fury. “She was with my _sister_ , Ned- and with _Baelish_ too.“

Ned felt himself wince. Oberyn had come by their hotel last night after they left the townhouse to talk about the details of the case where they wouldn’t stress out Sansa. They’d known about Baelish since their third phone call from Oberyn, but he had broken the news to them that he’d had an unexpected accessory to the crime.

Ned had always had mixed feelings about Lysa Tully, and had found her a difficult woman to be around, but never in his wildest dreams could have imagined her aiding Baelish in such a horrific crime. Not only that, but she had kidnapped her own son- taken him from his father without so much as a whisper- taking him across the ocean to live in a household with her abducted niece.

He couldn’t shake the deep feeling of tragedy and loss that engulfed him every time he thought about it, but Catelyn had skipped directly past processing the tragedy, and had gone straight to _furious_ from the moment they found out. She’d been so angry that she hadn’t even spoken for a good while- pacing furiously in their hotel suite with her clenched fists held at her side.

Ned couldn’t imagine finding that Brandon or Benjen had been involved with kidnapping his daughter- Catelyn had known that her sister was a difficult woman, but they’d never expected a betrayal like this.

“Do we have any insight into how she behaved, at least?” Ned gently asked. “She could have been decent to Sansa.”

Cat’s incredulous look told him _exactly_ how she felt about that possibility.

“Oberyn _specifically_ made a point to note that Sansa seemed reluctant to talk about her, Ned.” She hissed. Ned knew her anger wasn’t directed at him, but it was a formidable thing to see. “I can’t see that meaning anything good, for _god’s_ sake!”

“She’s alive.” Ned reminded her, squeezing her hand gently. “We can deal with everything else.”

“We have no idea what she’s been through.” Catelyn whispered, giving him an anguished look. “Robb needed _years_ of therapy to help him-“

“But they _have_ helped.” Ned softly told her, trying to a gentle smile. “He’s been doing really well the last few years. We’ll help Sansa find someone to talk to.”

“How much do you think she’ll tell us?” Catelyn asked, shutting her eyes and letting out a shuddering breath. “Do you think we’ll get to hear about any of it?” she pursed her lips. “I was so _so_ happy when we learned she was alive, but all I seem to do now is worry about the future. We missed eighteen _years,_ Ned.” She whispered, her voice hollow. “We didn’t get to see her grow up. We missed her first haircut- her first day of middle school- her first boyfriend.” She sniffled, a few tears running down her face. “We never got to help her with college applications, or argue over whether a dress was too short to leave the house in, and we never got to celebrate a single birthday.”

Catelyn was practically shaking at this point, and Ned lifted her hand to his own, pressing a slow kiss to the back of her palm as he pulled into Oberyn’s neighborhood.

“We didn’t.” he admitted, hearing his own voice crack. “But we can start now, right?” he asked, relieved when Catelyn nodded amidst the tears on her face, squeezing his hand back.

* * *

**Sunday, 11:00 am, Braavos**

“Good morning!” Catelyn greeted Sansa, something oddly bright in her eyes as she reached forward to give Sansa a slightly awkward hug. “Did you sleep well?”

“Of course.” Sansa lies, giving her the most genuine smile that she can manage. “Do you and Ned enjoy Myrish food?” They’d been very kind yesterday, allowing her to call them by their given names for now. It was a relief to Sansa, who wasn’t sure she could call them her parents quite yet. Of course, biologically, they were, but using the words ‘mother’ or ‘father’ made something flip uneasily in her stomach.

“Of course.” Catelyn smiles at her again, that strange strain around her eyes still present. “That sounds wonderful, Sansa.”

Ned appeared behind her, apparently finishing up a phone call.

“-Promise me that you won’t.” she hears him say, sternly. His eyebrows are set in a very severe angle, but his eyes are smiling. “I’ll be asking Lya to determine your punishment if it happens again. Alright, love you.”

He punches a few buttons on his phone before pocketing it and giving Sansa a gentle smile.

“Hello, Sansa.” He quietly greets. “You’ll have to forgive my rudeness- apparently our son is terrorizing his soccer opponents again.”

This actually does draw a small, genuine, smile from Sansa. Catelyn rolls her eyes, but something relaxes in her demeanor as well.

“I’d feel terribly for his coach if Giantsbane wasn’t such an enabler.” She tells Ned, turning to Sansa. “Your youngest brother, Rickon, apparently kicked another boy in the stomach at his soccer game yesterday.” She tells Sansa, pursing her lips before she freezes, as though she’s realized what she’s just said.

Sansa forced a small laugh, trying not to let her stomach flip around at the reminder of more brothers. _Robin was first- Robin was the priority_. She reminded herself.

“In fairness, Rickon _did_ only go after the boy when he insulted Elia.” Ned points out, trying to ease the tension. “And he didn’t bite anyone this time.”

Sansa blinks, startled out of the awkward silence by her surprise.

“Bite?” she asks, watching as Catelyn turns to face Ned, an irritated look crossing her face and her hands on her hips.

“Really, Ned?” she almost hisses. It’s oddly reassuring for Sansa to see them so… so _normal._

“He’s a bit on the wild side.” Ned chuckled uneasily, glancing over at his wife’s irritated face. “Er- should we head in to eat?”

“Our food arrived just a few minutes ago.” Sansa tells them, leading them back towards the dining room, fixed smile still on her face. “It would be good timing.”

“Probably best that we get to it, then.” Catelyn tells her, her voice slightly too bright and brittle again. Sansa takes a breath, summoning all the courage that she has.

“There’s actually someone I was hoping to introduce you both to.” She tells them as they walk, deliberately keeping her tone light.

They cross the room threshold, and Sansa actually gives a genuine smile as she watches Loree mess with Robin’s hair, even as the boy rolls his eyes.

“Robin?” she calls, gently. He looks up, and his face goes from mildly annoyed, though still amused at Loree’s antics, to shocked, and finally settling on an unease, though he does try to smile at Sansa, which she appreciates.

He comes over to stand at her side, and Sansa puts one of her arms around him, looking down to try and give him the most reassuring smile she can manage.

“This is my brother,” she tells Ned and Cat, watching as their eyes seemed to widen in unison, “Robin.”

Ned seems to recover first, holding out his hand to shake Robin’s.

“Nice to meet you.” He tells the boy, his voice gruff and reassuring in tone. Catelyn seems to have shaken herself out of her shock, and gives him a small smile with tears in her eyes. 

“I remember holding you when you were a baby.” She tells Robin, taking his hand. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Robin didn’t seem to know what to say, shooting Sansa a panicked look, but Ellaria came to their rescue once again, clapping her hands as she came into the room.

“Everything’s set out, if we’re all hungry!” she calls, smiling reassuringly at Sansa and Robin. “And this means letting our _guests_ go first, girls.” She raises an eyebrow at her daughters. Obella looks vaguely sheepish, but Loree just pouts, and Sansa almost wants to laugh at her scrunched-up little face.

“Shall we?” Sansa asks, turning back to the Starks, feeling slightly calmer at the idea of food and lively company.

They pass around dishes, asking and answering questions that are awkward and strange to various degrees, their stilted small talk interrupted on several occasions with Loree and Doree’s varying theatrical answers. Sansa could have kissed them for the way they managed to lighten the mood- pulling a genuine smile from Ned at one point.

Brunch is easier when Oberyn and Daemon arrive, settling in at the big table with the rest of them, and the conversation quickly becomes less stilted between Oberyn’s carefully suggested topics of conversation, and the way Robin relaxes even more with Daemon’s presence. They discuss favorite movies, and Sansa falls into a much easier conversation with Catelyn about the movie ‘Titanic’, which they both loved.

Ultimately, though, the conversation turns towards the summer, which Sansa had been both anticipating and dreading.

“Winterfell is beautiful in the summer.” Catelyn tells Sansa, as Oberyn gives them both a careful glance. “The weather is mild enough to still enjoy your time outdoors, and there’s a crystal clear lake just a few miles away that the kids have always loved.”

“It sounds beautiful.” Sansa politely comments, noticing how Robin stiffens next to her as Catelyn tries to tell her all of the wonderful things that the North has to offer.

“Elia and Lyanna are helping to set up your room back at Winterfell.” Catelyn continued, seeming not to notice the way that Robin’s breath was quickening. Sansa glanced down at him- concern overriding all of her nerves.

“I think that we may need to talk with Jon Arryn about our summer arrangements.” Sansa quietly told Catelyn, watching as the woman froze, her fork just inches above her plate. Ned’s eyes flicked from Sansa to Robin to Cat, and seemed to pick up on Sansa’s meaning. “I’d be thrilled to spend some time with you- your home sounds beautiful.” She reassures Catelyn, slipping easily into the same reassuring, calming tone she had often employed when Petyr was agitated. “But I think that Robin and I would prefer to stay with each other over the summer, wherever that ends up being.”

* * *

Oberyn watched the exchange with raised eyebrows, shooting a glance at Daemon, who didn’t look surprised, but did have his mouth pressed together into a thin line. When he looked back at Sansa, she seemed calmer now than he had seen her for days.

 _It’s not real._ He mused, sitting back to watch where Sansa would go with this. _She’s doing everything she can to make the Starks happy, but she draws the line at Robin’s well-being._

Catelyn didn’t seem to have any idea how to respond to this, and Oberyn exchanged a look with Ellaria, who gave him a tiny nod.

“Jon should be here tomorrow.” Ellaria interjects, smiling broadly at Sansa and Catelyn both. Robin looks less pale than he had a few minutes ago, when Catelyn had been describing the Winterfell grounds, but Oberyn’s heart goes out to the boy. He was a bit of a brat at times, but he looked terrified at the very thought of a separation from Sansa.

“We have several agents grabbing him from the airport.” Oberyn told the Starks, both of whom looked incredibly out of their depth. “You and Jon Arryn are close, are you not?” he directed at the two.

“Of course.” Ned responded, quickly understanding Oberyn’s point, turning to face Sansa and Robin. “Sansa, if you and Robin would prefer to stay together over the summer, Robin and Jon are more than welcome to stay at Winterfell with us.”

“Of course!” Catelyn instantly agreed, a look of pure relief replacing the brief flash of terror that had appeared at Sansa’s earlier words. “Robin, dear, we’d be more than happy to host you as well- I’m sorry the thought didn’t cross my mind earlier!”

Robin remained silent, but nodded, flashing Catelyn something that might not quite qualify as a smile, but was in the right direction. Sansa squeezed his shoulder, reassuringly, and Oberyn could _see_ when the boy began to relax.

“Arya told me that your youngest son- Rickon- was Robin’s age.” Sansa gently interjects, smiling a bit more genuinely at the Starks. “She mentioned something about him being a gamer?”

“Oh gods, he is!” Catelyn chuckled, relief plain in her eyes as she addressed Robin. “He plays with his friends all the time with those video games- I think he has just about everything possible.”

“What system does he use?” Robin asked, slowly.

“He prefers X-box, but there’s a Wii as well.” Ned answers, chuckling. “He’d probably be thrilled to have someone to play against him right there.”

“That- that sounds nice.” Robin mumbled, his ears bright red. “I’ve only gotten to try those at friend’s houses.”

Oberyn watches as Ned and Cat share a surreptitious look at each other, as Sansa smiles at Robin.

“It’s lovely to see that you two are so close.” Catelyn tells them, seeming to genuinely mean it with a soft look on her face.

“Sansi calls us a package deal.” Robin admits, causing a small outbreak of laughter across the table. Oberyn resists the urge to raise his eyebrows. It was quite the difference from the cold shoulder he’d been giving Sansa the last few days, but it seemed relatively genuine at least. It was Sansa he probably needed to worry about more, though, he thought, watching her give small smiles and make polite conversation. She looked perfectly poised the entire time, even as the topics of conversation shifted towards lighter things.

Sansa was gently chuckling as Doree and Loree talked about their high school chorus with the usual zeal, even as Obella looked slightly embarrassed with how corny the girls were acting, and if he didn’t know better, Oberyn would have thought that Sansa was enjoying herself. 

But he knew for a fact that she’d woken up at least twice during the night- from nightmares, or from heavy thoughts, or simply from the stress the last week had left on her body. He’d been up late with paperwork, and heard her a few times. She should have dark circles under her eyes, but they looked bright and clear as ever.

She was good at this, he was beginning to realize. Hiding in plain sight, that was. Sansa had been perfectly composed and polite as Detective Valman all but accused her of being Baelish’s accomplice, and she’d kept her statements polite as she faced him, only letting Oberyn see her shoulders slump after he’d spent half a day questioning her.

Logically, Oberyn _knew_ that Sansa wasn’t comfortable with the Starks yet, but if he hadn’t seen her worry- her fear- over the last few days, Oberyn would likely assume she was well-adjusted and settling in just fine.

She wasn’t, though. That much he knew, and the more she kept herself quiet, and kept everything inside, the harder it was going to be to handle the inevitable fallout.

It wasn’t a comforting thought.

* * *

**SUNDAY, 2:00pm, Braavos**

“I want to see him.” Catelyn Stark told Oberyn, her voice colder than he had ever heard it when he shut his office door in the townhouse. She’d been perfectly composed during brunch with everyone, but the minute that Sansa left, and the children were otherwise occupied, her anger had reared its head.

After brunch, Sansa had left to go pack some of her things, and Ned had offered to take care of dishes with the younger girls, letting Catelyn give Oberyn a statement first. She looked several degrees of fury away from spitting acid- the same expression that her youngest son seemed to wear in all of his sports pictures.

Oberyn had always found it amusing the way that Catelyn bemoaned Arya’s fierce, stubborn nature as a Stark trait, when it so clearly came from Catelyn herself. The ever-gentle Ned Stark had a long fuse, and considerably more patience than his wife, and so they tended to balance one another out.

“You know I can’t allow that.” Oberyn told her, not unkindly.

“That man _stole_ my _child_ from me.” Catelyn snarled, softly. “I don’t care what it takes- I want to look him in the eyes, Agent Martell. I want to hear him admit what he did. What he did to me- my family- what he did to _Sansa_.”

“You want to see him hanged for this.” Oberyn said, softly. “I need you to trust that I do too.”

“You couldn’t possibly-“

“I understand the need to get revenge on somebody.” Oberyn murmured, remembering his father’s murder, even as Catelyn’s eyes flashed dangerously again. “But we desperately need this case to _stick._ If the Braavosi Intelligence services think that we have a vendetta against him, they’ll never let us extradite him, no matter how much Baratheon bellows about it. They need to see that he’ll get a fair trial in Westeros.”

“And will he?” Catelyn asked, icily.

Oberyn looked at her- _really_ looked at the rage and hurt and desperation in her face, and thought of all the pent up fury that Catelyn Stark couldn’t take out on anyone. All because Baelish was in custody, and her sister had died _years_ ago. He thought of the way that Sansa spoke about the man, and thought about the way he had essentially stolen the girl's life from her.

He lowered his voice, meeting her eyes.

“Not if I have anything to do with it.” He admitted.

* * *

**SUNDAY, 2:45 pm, Braavos**

Ellaria had offered to stay with Sansa after dropping her off, but she hadn’t wanted to trouble the other woman. This wasn’t supposed to take long, and Mya was going to stop by and meet her there. Oberyn had promised her that he could keep the press out of this for a few more days at least- apparently it would have been harder in Westeros, but Braavosi law kept a tight lid on police investigations, and Sansa was grateful for it.

The surrounding residents had been informed that an investigation was taking place, but not what it pertained to, or why it was happening. It meant that the house had been swarmed by nosy neighbors in the first few days after the police served their warrant, but by now, they had retreated to gossip behind closed doors, and Sansa could approach her old house without being accosted.

One of the officers guarding the scene nodded to her, noting her ID on the list he held, and Sansa gave him a small smile, thanking him as he raised the yellow caution tape separating their house from the rest of the block so that she could walk under.

“My friend, Mya Stone, was going to come by and help me gather a few things.” Sansa told the officer in charge- an older woman with a harsh face, but kind eyes. “Do- do you think you could let her in when she arrives, please?”

The woman opened a small notebook, flipping through to examine one of the pages.

“Looks like Agent Martell approved her to visit, so I’ll make sure to send her up after you when she gets here.”

“Thank you.” Sansa sighed, relieved that Oberyn had remembered about her friend. She approached the house hesitantly, ignoring the eyes she felt from the window of the next house over.

Cracking the front door to their small house, Sansa slowly stepped in, taking in the scene around her. The yellow caution tape had been removed after the forensics team had gone over it, and the house was covered in a thin layer of dust. The clean-lined kitchen that she had done homework in as a child was empty, and an eerie quiet hung in the room.

Sansa didn’t linger very long, making her way up the stairs. Her footfalls echoed in the open space- the stairs were all hardwoods, a dark finish- almost black. She remembered thinking how sophisticated it looked, once. Now, especially without Robin’s near-endless chatter, it just felt cold. Lifeless.

Her room was at the end of the upstairs hallway, and the carpet that had once lined the floors had apparently been taken away by the police, leaving nothing but a thin layer of dust. Petyr had hated dust- he’d paid a cleaning service to handle the house after Sansa had started college and hadn’t had the time to spend on housework. Sansa had never seen it anything less than immaculate until now.

The door to her room swung silently open, and it was as if she’d never left.

The pale yellow walls of her room still held the posters from different designer showcases that she’d dreamed of one day attending, and while most of her desk seemed to have been removed and catalogued into evidence, the forensic team had left her art supplies in a neat pile on the floor. As she looked around, everything seemed slightly out of place. Sansa had never kept paintbrushes on her nightstand, and her bed had been stripped bare. They had even taken the little lemon tree she had kept in the corner, by her window.

She frowned at that, wondering if she would be able to get it back. Petyr hadn’t given it to her- Mya had, for her birthday last year. Sansa had really loved that tree, even if her father- _Petyr_ \- had been convinced it was going to attract insects.

She would have to ask Oberyn later, Sansa realized, sighing at the scene before her. Everything seemed messy, and Sansa had no idea where to even begin. She had no _idea_ what a summer in Winterfell would look like- much less one in the Vale. She couldn’t imagine Jon Arryn being okay with his son staying at Winterfell for the entire summer, and she intended to stick to Robin as much as he would allow.

Sansa drew in a deep, shaking breath walking slowly over to her closet and opening the door as though a bomb would explode if she pulled it too quickly. It was as neat and tidy as Sansa had left it, and she half-wished that the forensics team had ripped it apart as well.

She reached in, taking one of her bags, and haphazardly began cramming whatever clothing was vaguely summery into them, her breaths coming in heavy pants as she held back the tears that threatened to spill.

“Hey San?” Mya’s voice called out, from the bottom of the stairs. “You here?”

“In my room!” she called back, trying to quiet her breathing. The heavy clomping of Mya’s footfalls helped center her, and Sansa was back to shoving her clothes in the duffle bags that she had brought. “There’s more than I realized.” She admitted, standing in front of her closet as Mya entered, arms over her chest.

Mya frowned.

“You’re just going to shove them in there?” she asked.

Sansa’s shoulders slumped a bit.

“I don’t want to do any of this.” She admitted, feeling the creeping exhaustion in her voice. Mya came over, wrapping an arm around her.

“Hey-“ Mya steered Sansa over to her bed to sit down, taking her hand as she did, “Look, we’ll get it done, okay? One step at a time, right?”

Sansa leaned into her friend’s shoulder- Mya was one of the few girls she knew that was taller than Sansa herself, and years of recreational rock-climbing had given her rather decent shoulders to lean against.

“It just feels like so much.” She whispered. “I can’t- I don’t know what to bring.”

Mya seemed to realize that she wasn’t just talking about her clothes.

“Look, you just clue me in on what you want and we’ll do it, San.” Her friend grinned down at Sansa, whose head was resting on her shoulder. “If you want to take the whole lot out back and douse it in gasoline, I’ll grab marshmallows to roast while you find the matches.”

Sansa gave a watery chuckle.

“C’mon.” Mya nudged her. “You’ll feel better once we make some choices. You said Catelyn Stark said not to worry about bringing the wrong things, right?”

“She said that it would be easy enough to go shopping once we got to Westeros.” Sansa nodded, dully. “She said that several times, actually.”

“You know, I know it’s kind of a hellish circumstance, but I have literally never seen you less excited at the prospect of clothing in general.” Mya observed. Sansa grumbled, smacking her friend with a t-shirt.

“She just said it so casually.” Sansa muttered, fists clenched. She didn’t know why the thought frustrated her so much- Catelyn Stark’s careful offer had been generous, it had been kind- and it had been grating in a way she couldn't understand. “Like everything here could be replaced.” She grabbed a few of her shirts from her closet, carefully picking out what she had bought with her work money, or made herself, and nothing that Petyr had gotten her. “But she probably didn’t even mean that, I’m just overthinking it, and _gods_ Mya, I want her to _like_ me, but it’s so frustrating to think that I have to start over. She even looks like Lysa!”

Sansa knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t seem to stop, and Mya was nodding encouragingly.

“They’re so _nice_!” she cried, throwing one of the dresses Petyr had bought her for her birthday into a crumpled heap on the floor. “Ned and Catelyn are both so goddamn _nice_ and so goddamn _hopeful_ and I can’t be what they want, Mya!” she exclaimed, voice rising in hysteria before she remembered herself, and abruptly felt the wind go out of her sails. “They even took my _fucking_ lemon tree.” She muttered, the spot where it had sat empty, save for a ring of dust where the pot had been.

“Slow down, San.” Mya soothed, picking up the dress from the floor and smoothing it out. “I haven’t heard you swear like that since your garment construction final exam last year.” She turned the green fabric over in her hands. “This one is your favorite- you’re not going to pack it?”

Sansa deflated, slumping against her bedframe.

“Petyr gave it to me.” She admitted. “A gift- like he always would.” She was blinking tears out of her eyes. “He always hated that I studied fashion, but Robin and I still had to dress ‘appropriately’ in his eyes.”

“Yeah I remember you told me about that.” Mya nodded, her face warm and calm and open. “That’s why you kept nicking sweatpants every time you came over to my apartment.”

“I was so excited-“ Sansa muttered, looking down at the garment she held. “I mean, it’s bespoke- and the beading is a Myrish style that’s _impossible_ to replicate with a machine- you have to do it by hand- and now I can’t even fucking _look_ at it without wanting to lose my _fucking_ LUNCH!” Suddenly, the dress felt disgusting- felt slimy- and Sansa threw it with all the strength she had into the corner.

Contaminated. Everything she owned- all of it had been a lie.

Sansa didn’t know if she’d ever shouted like this, but Mya was grinning at her, and slowly, Sansa let herself smile back, albeit a bit shaky. Mya didn’t care if she lost her mind and yelled. Mya wasn’t the Starks, or Robin, or anyone that wanted something from her.

“You gotta remember to do that.” Mya told her, voice affectionate. “Lose it a bit, that is.”

“I can’t exactly do that in front of the Starks.” Sansa muttered, wringing her hands.

“Of course you can.” Mya scoffed, sifting through Sansa’s shoes. “You’ve got a DNA test to prove they’re stuck with you, San. No one’s going to begrudge you a little anger at the situation- I mean, without sounding like I’m making the underestimate of the century, it’s one hell of a situation.”

“Catelyn kept talking about all the family they had.” Sansa muttered, hanging the offending dress again in her closet. “How excited everyone was going to be. They’re so hopeful here, Mya- I can’t- I just _can’t_ do anything to erode that!” she bit her lip, real worry creeping into her thoughts. “They’ve _suffered_ \- like, really suffered for almost two decades because of me-“

“Because of _Petyr_.” Mya sternly reminded her, pointing a sandal accusingly.

“- and I can’t afford to be selfish here and hurt them.” Sansa continued, letting her shoulders slump before she looked back up at Mya with a tired smile. “What the hell am I going to do all summer in Westeros without you?”

Mya grimaced.

“I’ll figure something out.” She promised. “If I have to swim across the Narrow Sea to White Harbor and then steal a car, I’ll figure out a way to come visit you.”

“Thanks.” Sansa sniffled, surveying her room again. “I have some money saved if you need help getting a plane ticket over there- I know stuff is tight with your mum.”

“Hold off on that for now, and I’ll see what I can scrounge up, okay?” Mya asked, giving her a reassuring smile. “That’s yours, anyways. Mum only has a few treatments left, and we won’t have to worry so much about money then.”

“How’s she doing?” Sansa asked, lowering herself to the floor. “God- I’m sorry, I’ve been so wrapped up in myself that I completely forgot to ask.”

“She’s doing well enough that she’s pestering me about Michael.” Mya muttered, plopping her face into her crooked elbow. “She’s nosy as hell. Love her to death, but seriously, San, it’s getting absurd.”

Sansa actually laughed, suddenly delighted at the prospect. Mya’s mother had always loved Sansa- welcoming her like she was her own child, and had a great sense of humor. She was a constantly working single parent who adored her daughter, and had just recently (and begrudgingly) quit smoking. She was currently going through the last of a few radiation treatments for her breast cancer- she’d had surgery the previous year. 

“Is she up for visitors today?” Sansa asked. “I’d love to drop by and say hi before the other shoe here drops.” She grimaced at the thought.

“It’s gonna be a paparazzi free for all once the papers get ahold of this, isn’t it?” Mya asked, wincing.

“According to Oberyn.” Sansa sighed. “He said it would probably be worse in Westeros, but I’m going to have to lie low for a while.”

“Are you going to be able to do that with the Starks?” Mya raised a brow.

“They apparently own a relatively large estate in the North of Westeros.” Sansa told her, fidgeting with her nails. “Winterfell- part of it’s a castle that’s thousands of years old, but there’s a far more modern manor there also.”

“Define modern.” Mya skeptically commanded.

“Two hundred and fifty years old.” Sansa chuckled, as Mya’s eyes bugged. “Apparently the plot of land they own is big enough that press isn’t going to pose an issue there.”

“Sounds like they’re pretty wealthy.” Mya commented, her tone suspiciously devoid of any opinion.

“I think they are.” Sansa groaned, letting her head drop into her hands. “Like, I don’t think they live ostentatiously, you know? But when I looked up the family- they’re old Westeros money, Mya.”

Mya grimaced.

“That’s a lot to handle.”

“Yeah.” Sansa sighed. “Yeah. I mean- they said that they were planning to use a private jet to fly back to Westeros?” she could feel her tone began to border on hysteria again. “I mean, none of the Starks were dressed decked out in designer labels head to toe like Queen Cersei would be.” She pointed out, “But Catelyn’s jeans were _really_ high quality, and her cardigan was cashmere. Ned Stark was wearing what _had_ to be expensive leather boots, even if I couldn’t pick out the label from a glance.” She mumbled. Mya giggled at her.

“Your superpower failed?” she teased.

“Shut up.” Sansa muttered, good-naturedly. Mya often would tease her over her ability to pick out clothing brands and quality just by looking at what someone was wearing- they called it Sansa’s ‘superpower’ sometimes. “It’s been a long week.”

“You’re not fucking kidding there.” Mya snorted. “C’mon- less sitting, more packing. If they have money, and are willing to spend it so that you can replace the parts of your wardrobe that creep you out, let’s just get what you do want shoved into a bag, and maybe go get something to snack on. I’m starved. We can plot ways to get your lemon tree back too.” She teased, winking at Sansa.

Sansa felt her own stomach growl. It made sense- she hadn't eaten much at brunch.

“That sounds like a good idea.” She admitted, taking a shaky breath and turning around to face her closet again. It didn’t seem so hard now that Mya was here, teasing her like any normal day. It was bracing- comforting- that her best friend seemed so nonplussed about the whole thing. “Hey, maybe I can get Arya to meet us back at the townhouse if you want to come to dinner- Oberyn said you were welcome already, and I think you’d like her.”

Mya gave a wide, slow grin.

“Already introducing me to the family, San?”

Sansa shrugged.

“I mean, we’re kind of a package deal, you and me.” She told Mya, noting how her friend blushed slightly. “If they want me in their lives, they’re getting you too. You’re my best friend- that’s not going to change.”

“Damn right.” Mya grinned, stretching out like a satisfied cat, and even though Sansa knew how hard it was for her friend to handle emotional revelations without sarcasm, there was some genuine vulnerability in Mya’s eyes. “I’m very difficult to get rid of- I’m like herpes or glitter.”

Sansa snorted.

“Oh yeah-“ she told the girl, throwing a scarf at her, “you and Arya are going to get along _just_ fine.” A thought occurred to her. “Actually- I think you might want to meet her boyfriend also.”

“Her boyfriend?”

“He was in our history class. You’ll see.”

* * *

**Sunday, 10:15 am, Oldtown**

“Did you start doing drugs last night?” Jon asked, as soon as he heard the click of Robb picking up the phone.

“What the hell?” he heard Robb complain from the other line. “Fuck you, Targaryen.” He complained, without a drop of venom in his tone.

“You were saying some pretty weird shit in the groupchat.” Jon pointed out. “Were you drinking?”

Robb was uncharacteristically quiet for a minute.

“Tal gave me a sedative.” He eventually told Jon. “I- ah- I had a rough time when I got back from your place.”

The one thing that Jon knew about Robb, based on years of living in close proximity, was that he could fit an entire emotional journey in a single sentence, just by virtue of his tone. This one was easy for Jon to read- he’d heard it before.

“You had a panic attack?” Jon asked, in a quieter voice. He had seen Robb’s history of them, although they had gotten less frequent with age and massive amounts of therapy. The fact that he’d taken medicine like _that_ was a red flag to him, though. Talisa was _extremely_ careful about what drugs she would give to people- she wouldn’t have given Robb anything if he hadn’t been panicked to the point of incoherence.

“It’s not a big deal.” Robb muttered, abruptly trying to change the subject. “Look, I’m sorry if I was acting weird, okay? I get it- no more benzos and texting. I just wanted to get an idea of how everyone felt about this.”

“I think it’s a bit big for text messages.” Jon pointed out. If Robb didn’t want to talk about it, Jon wasn’t going to be the one to force him. “All of us are a bit on edge.”

“Yeah.” Robb answered, tone gloomy. There was a pause. “Have you talked to Bran?” he asked, quietly.

“He texted me a bit yesterday.” Jon told him. “He’s nervous about it.”

“Probably overthinking it again.” Robb sighed.

“That’s rich, coming from you.” Jon snorted

“Rick’s probably going to be fine, but I don’t know what Bran is planning to do.” Robb continued, ignoring him. “I guess- look, I think I was just trying to keep things light last night, okay?” Jon heard a heavy sigh from the other end of the line. “Clearly, I fucked that up if everyone was so intent on locking me in the goddamn basement so that I don’t have the chance to freak Sansa out or whatever.”

“In the future, I’d probably recommend giving your phone to Tal if she’s going to drug you.” Jon pointed out.

Robb gave a harsh laugh.

“You know, Egg was being just as absurd, and he doesn’t even have the excuse of drugs.”

“He’s allergic to sincere emotion in groups.” Jon told him, flippantly, pouring himself another cup of coffee. “He was probably just trying to lighten the mood a bit- like you, but without mind-altering drugs.”

“It feels like we’re all just covering everything up with sarcasm and stupid jokes.” He heard Robb mutter. “I just- I keep thinking about it- I can’t fucking _stop_ , Jon.” There was something almost frantic about his voice. “I mean- we have all these stupid inside jokes, and we’ve all been living at Winterfell our whole lives, and Sansa- fucking hell.” He hissed.

“I mean, of course Sansa’s going to have a rough time.” Jon pointed out. It had seemed a foregone conclusion that there were things Sansa would struggle with, after all. “It’s a difficult situation all around.”

“Seriously, Jon?” Robb spat. “Can you not be like that for _five_ fucking minutes? My _sister_ who I thought was _dead_ is going to return home, alive, and probably get overwhelmed in the fucking process to the point where it actually might be harder for her than if we’d never _found_ her, and your only response is ‘well, yeah’?”

Jon almost physically recoiled at the venom in his tone.

“I’m not the one who _kidnapped_ Sansa, Robb.” He retorted, suddenly far angrier than he normally would be. “I don’t know what the hell to say to you, man! This situation is almost statistically _impossible_ \- how the hell do you want me to react to it?”

“I don’t know!” Robb exploded from the other line. “I don’t fucking KNOW, Jon!”

There was heavy breathing over the phone, and Jon heard a telltale hitch in Robb’s breath. They were quiet for a few minutes- Jon had abandoned the idea of coffee at this point.

“We just-“ Robb gave a shaky sigh, “We can’t get this wrong, Jon.” He paused again. “We can’t have Winterfell be somewhere that makes things harder for Sansa.”

“I don’t think any of us want to make things more difficult.” Jon told him, his tone considerably more gentle after hearing the whiplash between Robb’s yelling and his quiet worry. “But we don’t really have a choice other than to just go for it. Look-“ he told Robb, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I wouldn’t even know where to _begin_ in calculating how unlikely this entire situation is.”

“It doesn’t seem real.” Robb muttered, after a considerable pause. “I really thought- I mean, I’m sure you and Rhae know those stats better than I do, but I wasn’t-“ he sighed, “I wasn’t expecting to ever see her alive.” He admitted, his voice flat. “I don’t really know how I feel.” Jon heard him snort over the phone. “How fucked up is that? I mean, I spent every damn night praying for her to come back when I was a kid, and now that she has, I can’t figure out my own goddamn feelings.”

“I don’t know.” Jon ventured, carefully. “Seems pretty human to me, considering the circumstances.”

“The statistically improbable circumstances.” Robb muttered. “I just- I need this to go well, Jon.” There was a hint of desperation in his voice that Jon hadn’t heard in a long time, and it gave him a moment’s pause.

“Then we meet Sansa, and we give her the space to show us what she is and isn’t comfortable with.” He told Robb, trying his best to sound comforting. “Mate, this is _good_ news, regardless of whatever guilt you’re feeling about dragging her away from her previous life.”

“Yeah.” Robb sighed, sounding resigned. “Yeah- it is, isn’t it?”

“It’s gonna get better.” Jon told him. “It’s just going to take some adjustment from everyone.”

“Yeah.” Robb mumbled. “Yeah- you’re right.” He paused for a moment. “Shit- you have exams coming up, don’t you?”

“Last one’s on Tuesday.” Jon told him, with a shrug that Robb couldn’t see. “But in fairness, it is a pretty exceptional circumstance.”

“Exceptional is one way to put it.” Robb snorted. Jon was just relieved to hear some of the humor return to his voice as he did. “I’ll let you go- can we text about flights home?”

“Sounds good.”

* * *

**Sunday, 9:00 pm, Kings Landing**

**Sunday, 7:00 pm, Oldtown**

**Groupchat: 'Reluctant Targ-spawn'**

**Aegon:** ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONES

 **Jon:** I just left the library

 **Jon:** why did you call me FIFTEEN times???

 **Jon:** did you change the group chat name again?

 **Rhae:** not the time

 **Rhae:** turn your news app back on

 **Rhae:** it’s not pretty

 **Aegon:** dead serious Jon- look at it right now

 **Jon:** …..

 **Jon:** shit

 **Jon:** I thought we had more time

 **Rhae:** I know

 **Rhae:** I did too

 **Aegon:** Apparently not 

* * *

**Sunday, 5:10 pm, Winterfell**

When Elia Martell walked into the kitchen, she wasn’t surprised to find Bran and Rickon there, but the silence as they watched TV was unexpected, and more than a little worrying.

“Everything alright?” she asked, placing a gentle hand on each of their shoulders before focusing on the TV screen itself. Rickon’s face was paler than she had ever seen, and Bran reached up to grip her hand tight for comfort.

“The story broke.” Rickon breathed, still staring at the screen like he couldn’t believe it.

Elia actually gasped, recoiling slightly as she saw Sansa’s school ID displayed across the screen. _STARK BABY KIDNAPPING SOLVED_ , the ribbon on the screen read.

“Have either of you tried calling your parents?” she asked, slowly, keeping her voice as calm as she could. 

“They aren’t answering.” Bran mumbled, staring at the screen with wide, frightened eyes.

“It's too late at night." Rickon said, sounding dazed.

"How- how the hell did this leak?” Bran asks her, his voice verging on hysterical as he squeezes her fingers like a vice.

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” Elia whispered, shaking her head and gripping his hand like a lifeline. The implications were beginning to dawn on her, and she suddenly felt dizzy, and more than a little bit sick to her stomach. “I really don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the time I finished writing this chapter, it was almost fifty single-spaced pages long, and so I decided that it read better as two separate chapters. I still have to edit the other half, but it should be quicker than my usual updates :)
> 
> This chapter was really enjoyable to write, and simultaneously INCREDIBLY difficult. Initially, when I started this story, I intended for it to be a lot more fluff, and have a far quicker Jonsa meeting (chapter after next guys- I promise, and I am so sorry it's taking forever), but I started writing, and there were just so many questions I felt like needed to be addressed. At this point, it has about eight million moving parts, but there's so much here to cover, and I love writing this story. 
> 
> Thanks so much for all of you wonderful, lovely people that subscribe, kudos, comment, review, etc. You're all fantastic, and reading your comments is such a lovely thing, and always just blows me away. 
> 
> If you want to say hello on tumblr, I'm @mkstrigidae ! Thanks so much for reading!


	10. Uncertainty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The news unfolds in Braavos, we see a lot of logistics happening, and everyone handles a media firestorm differently.

“No other evil we know is faster than Rumor, thriving on speed and becoming stronger by running. Small and timid at first, then borne on a light air, she flits over ground while hiding her head on a cloud-top.” 

**\- Virgil, The Aeneid**

* * *

**MONDAY, 1:15am, Braavos**

_“Our helicopters are flying over Braavos right now- we have the now breaking news that Sansa Stark- the victim of one of the most publicized crimes in history- has been found, right here, in Braavos.”_ The anchor read, straightening his glasses as the banner scrolled, bright red beneath him on the screen _. “So far, there’s no word from our sources regarding the kidnapper’s identity- we’ve reached out for comment to the WBI and the Braavosi police department for additional information. We’ll be updating our viewers periodically as we receive further updates on the case.”_

* * *

**MONDAY, 2:45 am, Braavos**

“Hey Ellie.” Oberyn yawned, lazily picking up his phone as it woke him up. “First time I’ve gone to sleep before 4am in like, three days, and it’s the middle of the night here. What’s up?”

“Lya said she’s tried to call you _six times_ , Oberyn.” His sister’s voice was strained- far from the relaxed, gentle tone she usually took, and it instantly had Oberyn awake. “The story broke- Sansa’s discovery- it’s been all over the news here. Lya’s stuck at work, trying to figure out what the hell the Star can print in the morning, Bran is panicking, and I’m starting to worry that Rickon is as well- I couldn’t even get in touch with Robb, he’s in such bad shape apparently-“

“Did you talk to his girlfriend?” Oberyn asked, already out of bed and pulling on his pants.

“She says he’s physically fine, and she called out of work to stay with him according to Rhae- she got pulled into Tully’s office to be _interrogated_ for god’s sake-“

“Tully did _what?_ ” Oberyn exclaimed, forgetting to whisper and smacking his elbow against the wall by accident, and waking up Ellaria, who turned on the light to give him a sleepy look of confusion.

“He accused her of being the leak, apparently-“ Elia continued, sounding even more frantic than before, “Daenerys has already called me _twice_ to ask about the case- hell, I got a call from _Rhaegar_ earlier, Oberyn!”

“Shit.” Oberyn swore, loudly and with feeling. “Fuck. Motherfucking son of a bitch-“

Ellaria raised an eyebrow and he mouthed an apology at the volume as he got a text alert, pulling his phone away from his ear for a second.

**Daemon Sand:** Deputy director called me. I’m on my way over.

 **Daemon Sand:** Actually, just got a frantic call from the Starks, because someone else isn’t answering his goddamn phone

 **Daemon Sand:** I’m swinging by to pick them up, and we’ll be by your place ASAP

 **Daemon Sand:** actually we’re gonna grab Arya on the way too

He sighed, pulling it back up to his ear to hear Elia continuing on.

“He had the audacity to ask why Lya wasn’t answering his calls.” Elia muttered, sounding as furious as Oberyn had ever heard her. “Nym texted me, asking why you weren’t answering your phone, and Tyene sent something similar, so call them when you get a chance. Look, Jon and Egg are both fine, Rhae is okay, she’s just kind of freaked out about getting called into the director’s office-“

“I’ll talk to him about that.” Oberyn growled. “Look- I’m going to go call him, alright? I’m sorry, Ellie. I haven’t slept in about three days, and I didn’t mean to miss Lya’s calls- I’ll get in touch with her after I square things away with the goddamn Blackfish.”

“That’s fine. Be careful. Give him hell from me.” Elia told him. “Apparently Lya wants to- Rhae was _extremely_ upset when she called earlier- but she’s stuck at work. I don’t want to leave Bran on his own right now, but let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

“Will do. Love you.”

Oberyn disconnected from his sister, looked straight at Ellaria, and let his head hang, sighing deeply. This was going to be a shitshow and a half.

“The news broke.” He told her, one hand on the wall to steady himself. “I don’t know what- I’m not entirely sure what we’re gonna do.“ He admitted.

“Let Sansa, Robin, and the girls sleep.” Ellaria commanded, getting out of bed instantly. “I’ll get a pot of coffee on, but they don’t need to worry about this yet. Are the Starks headed here?”

“Daemon’s grabbing them and Arya as quickly as he can.”

“A bigger pot of coffee, then.” Ellaria muttered. “I’ll set up the air mattress in Bella’s room so that Arya can get back to sleep.”

Oberyn blinked.

“I don’t know what good deed I did in a previous life to deserve you.” He muttered, cradling her beautiful, sleep hazy face in his hands and pressing a soft, sweet kiss to her mouth. “Thank you _thank you_ \- I am sorry this crazy made it’s way into our lives-“

“Crazy made its way into my life when I met you and your four children, and settled in when I gave you four more.” Ellaria snorted. “Go, sweetie- it sounds like Tully’s in trouble, so I expect a full recount of the yelling match later.” She called back to him, heading to set the room up for Arya.

Oberyn loved her so goddamn much.

* * *

“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for two goddamn _hours-_ “

“You, my nephews, my kids, my partner, my sister- there’s about twenty people above you on the list, but I’ve got a goddamn bone to pick with you.” Oberyn growled. “Explain to me why the _fuck_ you pulled Rhaenys into your office to grill her about the leak- you know _damn_ well that she doesn’t know enough to leak this shit- she’s still level four, and you need a much higher clearance to access the files. She knew Sansa had been found and that was _it_.”

“Dotting our i’s and crossing t’s.” Tully muttered. “She’s your _niece_ , Martell- we’re going to get hit with accusations of violating every nepotism-related rule in the book if we don’t play by the rules.”

“And that involves the deputy director _personally_ interrogating a junior agent?” Oberyn only kept himself from yelling from a desire not to wake his kids up. Or Sansa and Robin. “Tully, I swear to _god_ -“

“She’s well trained.” Tully admitted, bringing Oberyn up short, his mouth still comically open in his anger. “I’m giving you a task force in Westeros to work on the case further- I was considering her for it.”

Oberyn couldn’t have been more shocked if Tully had told him he’d eloped with Malora Hightower.

“You- what?” he asked, far less eloquently than usual. He’d blame the sleep deprivation.

“She’s a decent agent according to records, and she holds herself well.” Tully admitted. “Kept her composure well when I went off on her.”

“You _yelled_ at my niece just to vet her for some _stupid-_ “

“We can address this later, Martell.” Tully snapped. “She’s not my concern right now- it was a two birds, one stone kind of decision. We’ve got to handle this press leak _now_ though. Have we vetted the Braavosi officers?”

“I’ll get in touch with the Chief.” Oberyn muttered, rubbing the headache that was beginning to form between his eyes. “We kept the lid pretty tight- what do they know so far?”

“That we found Sansa.” Tully told him, his gruff voice weary. “They know we booked Baelish, but not what for as far as I could tell. He’s been kept in solitary since his arrest- the only people he sees are the guards that deliver his food.”

“One of them could have seen the chance for a payday if Baelish mentioned anything to him.” Oberyn pointed out. “The story’s worth a fucking fortune.”

“Well look into them too, then.” Tully snapped. “I already discussed this with your partner- I don’t want either of you anywhere near the press right now- they don’t need to catch wind of the Arryn case before we shut this circus down.”

“You want to risk the officers here talking to the press?” Oberyn asked, incredulously. “The circus isn’t going anywhere, Tully. If it was bad last time- it’s going to be much worse this time around.”

“The Chief should be more than capable of handling it.” Tully told him. “He’s a good man, Martell. I’m not worried about him running his mouth off before our resources give the media a few statements. Hightower’s set to give a press statement as soon as they finish putting something together.”

“She’s going to eat them alive if they ask inappropriate questions.”

The Blackfish chuckled.

“Yeah, Malora’s good like that. Promoting her to Bureau press secretary was the best decision this organization ever made.”

Oberyn heard his door open downstairs, and the sound of Ellaria greeting someone, and craned his neck out the door to catch sight of the Starks. Ned and Cat looked harried and tense, and Arya like a cat that had been dragged out of bed, clutching an enormous duffle bag and looking half-furious, half-exhausted.

“They’re here.” He told the director. “Ned and Catelyn. If you could spare it, your niece looks like she could use a few calming words and a phone call at some point.”

“Just get the job done, Martell.” The Blackfish grumbled, hanging up unceremoniously on him.

* * *

**MONDAY, 4:12 am, Braavos**

“How are you two holding up?” Lya asked, her voice grim.

“Sansa is still asleep.” Catelyn muttered, drawing her robe nervously over her torso. Her stomach had been churning since they’d gotten Elia’s first phone call, telling them what had happened. “Daemon got Ned and I up, and we picked up Arya on our way to Oberyn’s- she’s asleep in one of his daughter’s rooms- but we thought it would be better for Sansa to wake up normally. I expected Arya to push back, but I think she’s exhausted from exams.”

“Poor kid.” Lyanna clucked. “Both of them, honestly. If you hear noise behind me, it’s just the old bear. We’re holed up in his office trying to figure out how we’re gonna present the story- El’s at home with Bran and Rickon.”

“Thank you both for keeping an eye on them.” Catelyn told her, pressing her hand to her forehead. “How are they doing? We talked to Robb a bit earlier, and he seemed okay, if overwhelmed, and we have Arya and Sansa in the house with us, but I was worried about the younger two.”

“I haven’t been home from work since the news broke- we’re all doing overtime with this- I’m writing the story, though, don’t worry- but El said they were a bit shell-shocked.” Catelyn had never been more grateful for Lyanna’s tendency to be direct with her words- she knew her friend would be honest with her, even if the truth was upsetting.

Lya had been a huge help eighteen years ago when the case had broken, and Catelyn had been too grief-stricken and shocked to handle the media storm that had ensued- she’d helped them put together statements to give, and called in every favor from the industry she had to keep certain details quiet.

“I think they’re worried about seeing something similar to the ten and fifteen-year anniversaries of the case, with media and everything flocking to Winterfell with bizarre conspiracy theories, but we’re going to be careful with them.”

“Thank you.” Ned told her, his voice raspy as he came and put a solid arm around Catelyn. “Jeor Mormont is helping you write the article, then?”

“Yeah-“ Lyanna told them sounding slightly distracted, “-hang on just a sec, Ned.” There was a brief moment of static while they waited, and Lyanna came back on, sounding a bit harried. “Sorry about that- we keep getting calls on the old tip line that we’ve left open since the initial abduction- like some old hag in Wintertown is going to know anything about the case.” She snorted.

“Are you still getting calls from psychics?” Oberyn asked, sounding slightly amused. Catelyn shot a glare at him. It was easier to be annoyed than panicked, and Oberyn likely knew that, and was poking on purpose.

“Don’t make me answer that, Oberyn.” Lyanna snapped. “Anyways- the article. Jeor is handling the stuff coming in from Braavosi outlets right now, and I’m trying to keep this as composed as possible while we sort out what to bring up from the original crime scene and what we need to highlight from the last week.”

Ned put a hand to his forehead, leaning his head down slightly, and Catelyn reached out, rubbing his arm gently. He looked down, giving her a slightly strained smile.

“Headache?” she asked, quietly. He’d begun getting chronic migraines after Sansa’s kidnapping, and she wouldn’t be surprised if the stress of the day gave him one right now.

“Not anything debilitating.” He took her hand, squeezing it, comfortingly.

“Is your article planning to mention Littlefinger?” Oberyn asked Lyanna, rubbing his temples. “We haven’t released the information here yet- fortunately, it hasn’t been leaked either.”

“It would- and I say this as a journalist, Cat, Ned-“ Lyanna began, “-it would be better to have it in the first article, just to avoid any further speculation, but I haven’t said anything to Jeor. We haven’t even told any of the kids about the bastard yet.”

“Why is it better to mention him in the first article?” Catelyn asked, trying desperately to keep her voice calm. She knew Lyanna- knew that she would never publish anything harmful to the family- but even the idea of a newspaper made her sick to her stomach right now. She remembered how it had been last time.

“There’s a good chance that people are going to start up speculation about the two of you again, unfortunately.” Came Lyanna’s grim response. “The news cycle was hellish eighteen years ago, but the internet’s going to be the real issue here. People will speculate right and left, and you’ll end up with a lot of chatter about the way the case went back then.”

“It’s safer for all of us if you hold off on that for now.” Oberyn called over, still perched in a funny, haphazard position on the couch like some sort of strange bird. “Sansa’s identity as Alayne Baelish-“ Catelyn couldn’t help it, she winced at the name, “-is still secure at the moment. I’d like to keep that under wraps as long as possible to keep her life from being invaded.”

Lyanna was silent for a moment.

“Jeor’s not gonna be happy about that-” She admitted, “-but I can understand why you want to keep it locked down for now.” She paused, sighing. “Let’s figure out what we _can_ do, here. Ned, Cat- I know it’s asking a lot, but are you willing to make a statement to the paper? As generic as you want, but I think the more you give, the more it’s going to pull media attention from Sansa and put it on you.”

“Then we’ll give you as much information as that’s going to take.” Catelyn instantly agreed. They could have her pain- she wasn’t going to let them have Sansa’s. Ned nodded in agreement next to her.

“Alright, let’s get something put together then. Oberyn, you want to contribute, or are you just going to sit here like a lump while the adults do all the work?”

Ned actually snorted at that as Oberyn began good-naturedly arguing with his sister-in-law. Catelyn was certain at this point they were putting on this pantomime on purpose, but she was grateful for it if it would help Ned calm down even a little.

* * *

**SUNDAY, 8:45 pm, Winterfell**

“Did the Starks give a statement?” Jeor asked, coming back in with a giant mug of what Lyanna was certain was the radioactive sludge from the bottom of the break room coffee pot that her boss drank almost exclusively.

“Yes-“ Lyanna answered him, scribbling another line on her notepad before she settled back into her chair, “-I’m working it into the article right now.”

“Have they given you any information about the responsible party?” Jeor asked, his gaze a little too sharp for Lyanna’s liking. She loved the old bear- he’d single-handedly given her a chance to make a career at the paper, and had been the best mentor she could have asked for- but this wasn’t going to be a fun conversation.

“Not enough for me to substantiate.” She told him, leaning back and tapping her chin with her pen, absently. “The bureau hasn’t released a statement confirming their identity yet.”

“I find it a little hard to believe you haven’t talked to your brother-in-law at all in the last few days.” Jeor told her, his bushy eyebrows rising. “Him being the lead investigator on the case and all.”

“He wasn’t allowed to give me anything.”

“And since when is that an issue for Oberyn Martell?” Jeor snorted. “I know what you’re doing kiddo, and I don’t know how long we can do it this time.”

“We have a policy of not reporting on specific details if we determine that they would cause harm to victims of violent crimes.” She pointed out.

“It’s not like last time.” Jeor told her, almost gently. “I gave you leeway with the case coverage because publishing certain details could have risked the investigation, or caused her kidnappers to harm the Stark girl, but she’s been found now.” He gave her a knowing look. “She’s alive and well, from what I’ve gleaned from hearing your conversations with Elia.”

“Publishing more details right now could impede the investigation’s ability to put together a solid case for trial.” Lyanna pointed out, desperately grasping at straws. “Do we not have an ethical duty to the subjects we cover?”

“We do, but we also have an ethical duty to the _truth_ , Snow.” Jeor told her, not unkindly. “You’re close to the case, and the victims of the crime. I shouldn’t have let you report on it in the first place- don’t get me wrong, you’ve done a damn fine job with it- but it’s a conflict of interest. We have an obligation to the truth, though- not necessarily an obligation to the feelings of our friends.” His eyes were knowing, and Lyanna half wanted to throw her own coffee at him, even as she knew he had a point. “Every journalist has to figure out their own ethical line, but our devotion should be first and foremost to the truth. Does the world deserve that truth, or should we protect already very _public_ figures from it?” He stood, clapping her on the shoulder.

“Jeor-“ she began, uncertainty coloring her voice.

“I’ll let you think that one over a bit.” His gruff voice told her as he headed towards her office door. “Let me know when you have an initial draft of the article.”

He shut the door gently, leaving Lyanna confused, frustrated, and most of all, uncertain. He wasn’t wrong- journalistically, it was uncomfortable to be asked to withhold such a vital detail, but she wasn’t sure she had the heart to put Ned and Cat through any further pain by releasing details they didn’t want public.

She was going to have to call Elia again to work this out.

* * *

**MONDAY, 7:30 am, Braavosi Metro News**

“Well, Sansa Stark was a notoriously high-risk victim- the family, the police, the WBI- everyone expected a ransom of some sort when it happened.” The commentator said, gesturing as though it were obvious. “When that ransom demand failed to appear, there was speculation that she’d been taken by some sort of human trafficking ring.”

“What do you think of that theory?”

“I think it’s been discredited by now.” The commentator shrugged. “The WBI broke up three separate human trafficking operations, and none of them were responsible for the Stark kidnapping. The Bureau as a whole did some excellent work on the case- the problem just became that whoever _had_ been responsible for the crime had covered their tracks too well.”

“What do you think we’ll see when news of her kidnapper becomes public knowledge?”

“I think we’re looking at someone closer to the Starks than any of us will expect. Someone with connections.” she shrugged. “Hiding like this- hiding the girl in plain sight for _eighteen_ years isn’t something that just anybody can do. They’ll be incredibly smart, they’ll be well connected, and they’ll have a relationship with the family.”

* * *

**MONDAY, 8:10 am, Braavos**

Sansa woke up the next morning to Mya’s arm carelessly smacking her in the chest as her best friend rolled over. Sansa jabbed her with her finger and Mya bolted up, hair in all directions, and looking outrageously confused.

“Wha-?”

“You _hit_ me.”

“Ugh- sorry San.” Mya groaned, “I’m _tired_.” She paused for a moment. “You have any nightmares last night?” she asked, carefully. She knew Sansa had them from time to time, even if Sansa hadn’t mentioned the horrible one she’d had the night before to her friend just yet.

“Only part of one.” Sansa told her, sitting up in the bed they were sharing to grab her phone. “Wasn’t too bad- what the _hell_?”

Mya looked over her shoulder, swearing as Sansa looked at her phone screen.

It was _covered_ in news banners, all of which seemed to have her name on them.

“That’s my name.” Sansa said, stupidly.

“It is.” Mya muttered in agreement, resting her chin on Sansa’s shoulder as she scrolled through her own phone. “Good _god_ , San- this is- it’s-“

“It’s the case of the century.” Sansa whispered, thinking back to the first time she’d gone to the library specifically to google the Stark case. Almost every article had described it that way, with dramatic headlines and emotional pictures, and she’d been expecting the same now, but she’d thought they’d have more _time_ than this.

“Well okay, Ms. ‘Case of the Century’,” Mya snorted, her voice sounding shakier than Sansa was used to hearing, “C’mon- let’s get up and get dressed and go ask Agent Martell about what the _hell_ is going on.”

Sansa felt like she was underwater- even Mya’s words sounded fuzzy, and nothing quite felt _real_ to her. She could feel herself nodding, though, and let Mya gently take her phone and shove her into the shower where the water helped clear her head a little, but she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

 _Case of the Century._ She was infamous now.

Somehow, Sansa didn’t know what to do with that.

* * *

**MONDAY, 9:20 am, Braavos**

“Sansa?” Oberyn asked, certain that the dark circles under his eyes were taking on a life of their own. Ellaria had affectionately told him that he looked like a raccoon. “Do you mind if I take a look through your phone?”

It had been about an hour since Sansa and Mya had gotten up, and she and her friend were sitting at the counter with Arya and Bella while everyone seemed to try and pretend this was normal. The Starks had been a strained sort of polite to Mya initially, but Oberyn had seen the way Sansa’s lips had twitched downward, and the way the lines on her forehead had gotten more pronounced as she saw them interacting.

He’d pulled Ned and Cat into the other room to explain how important Sansa’s friend was to her, and they’d seemed horribly embarrassed at not realizing. He’d put it down to stress and sleep-deprivation, and they’d been much warmer to Mya upon coming out. Oberyn had watched as Sansa physically seemed to relax with their behavior change.

Arya, on the other hand, had instantly gotten along with the girl, to the extent where they’d actually managed to make Sansa _smile_.

Now, he and Daemon were trying to work out a few things with the leak- which the bureau hadn’t had any luck discovering yet- and Oberyn wanted to see Sansa’s things, on the off-chance that someone she knew had been the leak. He’d already looked through Mya’s phone and marked her as uninvolved- just so he could tell the Blackfish he had gone through _all_ proper procedure- but not before apologizing profusely to both Sansa and her friend, who he quite liked so far.

“Sure.” Sansa murmured, easily handing over her phone. “What are you looking for?”

“You don’t keep a lock on your phone?” Oberyn asked, raising a brow as he looked at the screen.

Sansa blushed, hunching her shoulders slightly. She shook her head.

“Might be a good idea for you to start.” Oberyn suggested, gently. “There are a lot of people who would probably kill to get into the Sansa Stark’s phone.”

“I will.” She murmured. Her friend bumped her shoulder, giving her a smile, and it seemed to perk her up a little.

He looked through, frowning slightly.

“You’ve only texted Robin and Mya the last few days?” he asked.

Sansa opened her mouth, and then promptly shut it again.

“I-“ she paused, seeming almost embarrassed, and hunching her shoulders, “I have a habit of deleting my texts for the most part.”

There was a multitude of information in that sentence for Oberyn, who merely nodded, going back to read through the missed caller list. Apparently, Sansa almost never missed phone calls, and he had the feeling that a lot of her texts and emails had been erased after she’d sent them. He would have to get in touch with the phone company to see if anyone they had flagged had tried to contact her phone, but he had the feeling that Sansa’s phone would tell him more about her relationship with Baelish than it would tell him about the leaks. 

He’d seen it in victims in abusive, controlling relationships before- he wondered if Baelish had gotten angry when she wouldn’t answer calls, and he was certain at this point that the bastard had regularly looked at her phone, and probably hadn’t allowed her to have a lock code on her phone.

It was disturbing to think about, but he didn’t want to call too much attention to it while the kitchen was full of Starks- he didn’t want to watch Catelyn shatter a glass with her grip when she learned how controlling Baelish had been.

Somehow, he didn’t think that would go over well with Sansa, even if Arya would get a kick out of it.

* * *

**MONDAY, 10:20 am, Braavosi Local News Station W-KXN**

“So, what do you think about the Stockholm Syndrome theory? A few experts have floated the idea, and it’s such a tragic thing.”

“Oh, it’s definitely a possibility.” The commentator nodded, “I mean, we don’t entirely know what kind of environment Sansa’s been kept in- we don’t know what kind of a relationship she had with her captor- it’s all up in the air as far as we know. I’d say it’s likely, all things considered, but we’ll wait and see.”

* * *

**MONDAY, 11:15 am, Braavos**

“How are you feeling?” Sansa asked Robin, carefully taking her brother’s hand. He looked paler than Sansa had ever seen him, and he had circles under his eyes. Sansa hadn’t seen him look quite so ill since before Lysa’s death. He’d been a sickly child, but his teenage years had been good to him.

“I don’t wanna do this.” Robin whispered, looking as though he wanted to vomit. “I can’t- Sansi-“

“Hey.” Sansa told him, squeezing his hand. “It’ll be okay, alright? I’ll be right here with you the entire time, and Ned and Cat already said that he was fine with us staying at Winterfell for most of the summer- that he would come stay up there so that he could get to know us. He’s doing everything he can to make sure you’re comfortable, from the sound of it.”

A part of her wanted to say ‘ _it’s only skype- it won’t be nearly as scary’_ but she didn’t want to invalidate his feelings by saying something careless. Robin had been eating like a bird all morning, and had barely spoken when Daemon mentioned that Jon Arryn was hoping to skype with him today. Sansa hadn’t been privy to their conversation, but Robin had come out of the room with Daemon clapping him on the shoulder, and agreed to meet his biological father over a video chat.

She was so grateful to Daemon for the way he seemed to have gained Robin’s trust, and wasn’t sure if she could ever thank him for the way he’d helped her brother through the last few days.

When Robin had asked if she would be with him, she’d agreed almost instantly. She didn’t have to think about whether she wanted to support Robin or not, and a part of her was relieved to have _something_ besides the media frenzy to focus on- she’d foisted Mya off on Arya for a little while, relieved her friend agreed to stay with them a little longer. She knew she would have to eventually, but right now, Sansa _really_ didn’t want to think about the implications of the whole mess. They would know who she was eventually, but for now, she was just relieved that no one had discovered her identity yet.

She was distracted from her thoughts when the computer screen in front of them lit up- Jon Arryn was calling them. Robin looked like he wanted to be sick, and Sansa’s heart went out to him.

“You’re the one who decides whether we answer or not.” She gently reminded him. “Either way, I’m right here.”

After a moment- where Sansa was mildly worried they would miss the call- Robin nodded, swallowing tightly, and clicked the answer button. A man’s face filled the screen with blonde, rapidly graying, hair, and a nose that reminded Sansa very strongly of Robin’s.

“Hi!” she greeted, waving at him.

“Hi.” Robin whispered, staring at the screen.

“It’s nice to meet you both.” The man responded, and Sansa could see that Jon Arryn was blinking back tears. “Sansa, you look just like Cat.” She gave him a brilliant grin that she didn’t completely feel. “Robin- that’s what you go by now, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Robin nodded, nervously, giving him a smile that Sansa suspected came across as more of a grimace. “Um. It’s nice to meet you.”

Jon Arryn’s face broke into a brilliant grin, and Sansa’s smile back was a bit more genuine this time.

“I’m Jon.” He introduced, wiping his eyes slightly. “Jon Arryn, but you can call me whatever you want for now. Anything you want.” He promised, his gruff voice breaking a bit on that particular sentence.

“Can- do you think I could just call you Jon for now?” Robin asked him, hesitantly. “Sansi’s been calling her parents Ned and Cat and I thought…” he trailed off, uncertain, and Sansa squeezed his hand again.

“That sounds more than okay to me.” Jon told him, and Robin gave a tentative smile to the camera that made Sansa’s own smile even wider.

 _A decent start, all things considered_. She thought, watching as they began a tentative conversation. _This could work, after all._

* * *

**MONDAY, 1:23 pm, Braavosi News Network (BNN) Headquarters**

“More breaking news, folks, we’re getting word now that we’ve identified Sansa Stark in Braavos- she’s been living under the assumed name of Alayne Baelish, which raises a host of questions itself.” The anchor looked back down at the information he’d been handed. “Alayne Baelish has been a student at Braavos Central for the last two years, where Arya Stark has been a student as well, studying fashion merchandising and design. She was living with a guardian, Petyr Baelish, who is believed to be her kidnapper. More information on this, as the story develops.”

* * *

**MONDAY, 1:50 pm, Braavos**

“We need to move you if they know who you are and where you lived.” Oberyn tells them, looking grim. Sansa was just relieved at this point that Mya is still there, still stubbornly _there_ , and still clutching her hand. She’d thought the initial news would be the worst of it, and then she’d thought that talking to Jon Arryn with Robin would be the hardest part, and then her _face_ had been on the news, because they had learned who she was, and she was trapped now, whether she liked it or not.

“To where?” she whispers.

“Winterfell will be safe.” Catelyn immediately insisted. “We have top notch security there- you _know_ this, Oberyn.”

It quickly devolved into a logistical argument between Oberyn, Ned, and Catelyn, and Sansa felt a bit like she was watching a tennis match, back and forth, feeling a slow pit open up in her stomach. She was glad Daemon had taken Robin, Doree, and Loree to lunch with Ellaria, so her brother didn’t have to see the argument unfold.

Sansa felt her phone buzz, looking down- Myranda was calling her. She wondered if she’d seen the news. She decided to play it safe, letting it go to voicemail, despite the way that missing calls made her skin itch. After her voicemail message dinged, she received several texts in quick succession:

**Myranda:** There’s media at the shop

 **Myranda:** they’re trying to interview us

 **Myranda:** I told them to fuck off but Elissa and Cam are talking to them

 **Myranda:** I don’t know how the fuck they knew

 **Myranda:** I scraped up the camera lens with coffee grounds

 **Myranda:** trying to stop them from filming

 **Myranda:** but they kicked me out and had a spare

 **Myranda:** be careful

 **Myranda:** please

 **Myranda:** Are you okay???

 **Sansa:** Thank you

 **Sansa:** I’m okay right now

 **Sansa:** ….you ruined a camera?

 **Myranda:** I think they’re from BRV-11 that’s what the truck says

 **Myranda:** yeah I’ve done that at protests before

 **Myranda:** threw paint at one once

 **Myranda:** Shit I’m sorry

 **Myranda:** I tried to get elissa to shut up

 **Myranda:** I think she’s a serious pothead tho- braavosi local news rly doesn’t like that- so maybe we can discredit her

 **Sansa:** I think it’s just gonna happen anyways

 **Sansa:** Thanks tho

 **Myranda:** look I know you probably have a bajillion things to worry about

 **Myranda:** but this sounds like the shittiest situation possible if the media are to be believed

 **Myranda:** just

 **Myranda:** don’t hesitate to ask if you need help, Ok?

 **Myranda:** You’ve dropped everything to cover shifts for me before, and helped me study for Econ when I thought I was going to fail so I definitely owe you one or twenty

 **Sansa:** It’s a lot right now

 **Sansa:** But thank you

 **Sansa:** Seriously

 **Sansa:** It means a lot

 **Myranda:** I got ur back if u want

 **Myranda:** Hang in there

 **Myranda:** <3

“Can we turn on BRV-11?” Sansa asks Ellaria, vaguely panicked.

“Sure-“ She fumbles for the remote, “What’s on there?”

“One of my coworkers just got in touch.” Sansa said, feeling oddly detached from herself. “A crew from that station is at the shop.”

“You had a job?” Catelyn asks, sounding surprised, but no one answers her as they focus on the TV.

“Did you tell her anything?” Oberyn asks, suddenly sounding urgent. Sansa shakes her head, handing Oberyn her phone so he could see the conversation. He quickly reads it though, laughing out loud as he gets though.

“I really don’t think she would say anything, though.” Sansa tells him. “Even if I had told her, I mean.”

“Myranda?” Mya asks from next to her. Sansa nods, and Mya turns to Oberyn, shaking her head. “She’s harmless unless you’re a big corporation or have assaulted anyone lately- she’s super into protests, but she’ll respect your privacy- she’s studying psych and her whole thing is autonomy and personal healing for crime victims- something like that.”

“She seems harmless unless you’re a camera crew.” Oberyn chuckled, jotting down her information. “She’s not asking anything except whether or not you’re alright. I’ll look her up, but if you’re right-” he indicated Mya with a head nod, “-she should be fine to stay in touch with. Just be careful”

Sansa just watches, wordlessly, as the reporters barge into a space in her life that they shouldn’t have even known about. That’s her job- her income- ruined right then and there. She briefly thinks that she's going to have to figure out something quick if she wants to afford textbooks next semester.

“Did you do a background check on me also?” Mya casually asks Oberyn, who gives her a thumbs up.

“You passed with flying colors.” He assures her.

“Why- why would they do that?” she asked, not expecting any sort of answer. “I mean- why do they want to go there? It’s a _coffee shop_.” Her voice sounded like it was coming from someone else, and she felt dazed. “It’s nothing special- just a shop.”

 _“I mean she was always so nice but had her head in the clouds a lot.”_ Elissa’s voice came from the TV. _“She could get distracted and be late sometimes, but she was always good with customers. I don’t know- her dad- I mean- the guy that kidnapped her- he never really came in, so I don’t know what he was like. But I don’t think he liked that she had this job- he’d make her take care of her brother like she was his mom or something and she never fought back against any of it.”_

Sansa heard Catelyn inhale sharply, and her eyes filled with tears at Elissa’s words.

“I was never late.” She whispers, squeezing Mya’s hand. “Not- not a single time.” She sniffled. Such a stupid thing to cry about, but here she was.

_Why would Elissa lie about that? Why would she say those things about Sansa not fighting back?_

Sansa caught a glimpse of a censor mark on the windows, and suddenly realized that Myranda was flipping off the cameras from outside, and she suddenly felt her breath hitch in a hysterical giggle.

“Is that-“ Mya began, studying it incredulously as Myranda stuck her tongue out.

“It is!” Sansa managed, between her teary giggling. None of this felt like reality.

“That wouldn’t happen to be Myranda, would it?” Oberyn asked, dryly.

Sansa nodded, shaking with something that she still couldn’t identify- she suspected it looked more like insane laugher than anything else though, because no one had tried to comfort her yet.

“Dear god.” Ned Stark muttered, in his gravelly voice, sounding somewhat stunned.

“She seems delightful.” Bella commented, wryly.

Sansa sniffled, nodding as they watched the rest of the segment roll. Watched Sansa’s life turned upside down in every way. Watched as her privacy became a nonexistent commodity.

She didn’t know what was wrong with her- she was upset, but most of what she was feeling right now was just an overwhelming _numbness_ that seemed to cloud her head. As they watched the news roll, there was really only one coherent thought Sansa could summon.

_Is this real? Is this real life?_

_Is this happening right now?_

* * *

**MONDAY, 9:50 am, Oldtown**

“Jon Targaryen.” He answered his phone without glancing at the screen as he craned his neck to try and find a coffee shop as he headed towards campus. Between studying for exams, and talking to Robb, he had barely gotten enough sleep to function without caffeine.

“How long have you known?” a cool voice asked.

“Christ.” Jon muttered, feeling a headache coming on. “Since Friday? Not long.”

“And you didn’t think it might be prudent to call?”

“Take it up with Oberyn.” Jon sighed, feeling only a little bit bad about throwing his uncle to the dragons. Oberyn and Dany had the same single-minded devotion to the pursuit of justice; the problem they ran into, though, was how to define ‘justice’ itself. It wasn’ something Jon ever wanted to be in the middle of; Egg had once compared their conversations to a no-holds-barred gladiatorial match. “He instituted a full media blackout- specifically told me I couldn’t say anything to you.”

“Clearly that’s a non-issue at the moment.” His aunt muttered. “What can you tell me about it?”

Jon sighed. This was going to be exhausting, but she would call Rhaegar next, and then Rhaegar would call Jon, and the whole thing would be messy.

“Dany, I don’t know many of the details yet myself.” He sighed. “Uncle Oberyn specifically refused to give us certain details. Sansa’s alive, etc., she’s been raised in Braavos- I mean, I haven’t even met her yet.”

“Is that going to change?” Dany asked, pointedly. “She sounds like she could use a decent lawyer like you around while her case goes to trial.”

“I’m getting on my flight to Winterfell tomorrow at 2:50 in the afternoon.” Jon checked his watch. “And I’m still a student, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“You only have a single term left.” Dany dismissed. “You’ll be ready by the time it matters. You really have no idea who’s responsible?”

Jon had a few theories, mostly based on what Arya had mentioned, but he was keeping those to himself. He hadn’t even mentioned anything to Sam, who was far more impartial about the case than any of Jon’s family members, and far less of a gossip as well.

“I told you, no one’s willing to say anything.” He insisted.

“Yes, but if you’re going home, you’ll likely learn before I will.” Dany pointed out.

“What’s the fixation with this?” Jon groaned. “Good luck on your exams Jon! How did your presentation go, Jon? How are you doing, Jon?” he snorted. “You could at least pretend to be interested.”

“Of course I’m interested.” Dany snorted. “Rhaegar got a copy of your grades already.” He could vividly picture his aunt waving her hand at that. “You’re in great shape scholastically, your presentation was well received, and you seem confused to me, if anything.” She paused. “They’re already talking about handing the case to me, Jon.” She said, more quietly. “It could mean big things.”

“I liked it better when we were in elementary school and you made fun of me near mercilessly.” Jon muttered, no actual malice in his voice. “I haven’t even taken my last exam yet.”

“You’ll do fine on it.” Dany impatiently told him. “Besides, you can’t tell me you wouldn’t absolutely jump for the chance at the AG position if it were a possibility.” Dany pointed out. “If they give the Stark case to me, I want you working with me. I’ve seen you win enough arguments with my brother to know that you’re able to keep a cool head on what could be a personal case.” There was a bit of a smirk in her tone, and he rolled his eyes.

“I still don’t even know what I’m specializing in, though.” Jon muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “I thought- well, I don’t really know, and I’ve spent the last couple of days thinking through every scenario possible for this trial when I should be thinking about my _own_ future.” He huffed, frustrated. “We don’t even know if extradition is going to stick yet.”

“I’m pretty sure Baratheon will fight tooth and nail for that.” Dany argued. “Besides, the WBI’s Deputy Director is a Tully- he has a personal relationship with Catelyn Stark, and I remember him having a temper. He’s not going to want to let this guy go- whoever the hell he is.”

Jon gave a heavy sigh.

“Maybe let’s take it one step at a time for now.” He told his aunt. “We still have no idea what Sansa’s been going through, or even really what she’s like, and as far as I can glean, Oberyn and his partner are still collecting evidence and running down leads.”

“Look-“ Dany’s voice softened a bit, “I’m sorry if I’m coming across as harsh- it’s my _job_ to think like this, so that victims don’t have to.” She told him. “I’m not just going to traipse into Winterfell and demand to hear every detail of Sansa’s trauma right off the bat-“

“Oh so a few months after she’s back and you’ll try it then?” Jon sarcastically asked, only half-kidding.

“Watch it, kiddo.” Dany told him, sounding vaguely amused. “I’m not sure I want to try it at all- that’s part of why I want you to work with me. You have a talent for putting people at ease that certain members of my team may, ah, lack from time to time.”

“Jorah hasn’t toned it down yet?” Jon asked, knowingly.

“You have no idea.” Jon heard his aunt mutter. “Look, just consider the possibility, Jon.” She told him, her voice firm enough that Jon knew he wasn’t going to escape the conversation without some sort of vocal agreement. “I know it’s all hypothetical right now, but working on the case of the century would give you the chance to put your name out there- to advocate for a girl who should never have had to go through a situation like this.“ she paused, briefly. “It would give you a chance to help get justice for Eddard and Catelyn Stark, Jon. That’s not nothing.”

Jon gave a deep sigh.

“I’ll consider it.” He admitted. She had made a decent point, even if Jon felt like she had used her ability to debate in a courtroom against him. “For now, though, I’ve got to run- Professor Thorne already has it out for me, and I can’t afford to be late to his exam.”

“Are you ditching me to get in a coffee line?” Dany asked, her voice amused. “I can hear the crowd behind you.”

“Guilty.” Jon admitted, chuckling. “But I do need the caffeine for the exam. I’ll talk with you later, once we have a better idea of the case.”

He hung up after they said their goodbyes, gave the barista his simple order, and tried desperately to ignore the pit of worry in his stomach. It may have been the only time Jon ever looked _forward_ to an exam, just so he had a distraction from the case and the ensuing media circus.

* * *

**MONDAY, 6:30 pm, Braavos**

Was this how her life was going to be from now on? Sansa wondered, sitting on the couch with Mya, Robin, Arya, and all three of Oberyn and Ellaria’s daughters. She’d been glued to the different news stations since they’d found out, and kept scrolling through articles on her phone until Mya pried it out of her hand.

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head, at Sansa’s betrayed look. “You’re not getting this back until you stop tormenting yourself.”

Sansa’s attention was caught by the TV again before she could embarrass herself by begging Mya for her phone back, as one of her professors- Dr. Mordane- was cornered by camera crews. Sansa could see the flashes going off as Dr. Mordane whirled around, her eyes _blazing_ fury at the crews. She stared at the screen in horror, cold seeping into her limbs as she watched.

 _“Ms. Mordane!”_ a reporter called. _“What can you tell us about Sansa Stark?”_

 _“It’s DOCTOR Mordane, young man, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself!”_ Sansa’s favorite professor spat, shaking her finger violently at the younger reporter. _“You leave her alone, and I will NOT give any sort of comment to gossipy scum like you- you hear me?”_ the professor shrieked. _“Now get OUT before I call security on your scrawny ass!”_

Arya _doubled_ over with laughter, tears rolling from her eyes as she almost fell off the couch. Loree and Doree whooped, and Obella looked mildly impressed. Mya grinned.

“Okay-“ she admitted, “Now I can understand why you like Dr. Mordane so much. Didn’t know she had it in her, honestly.”

“That was _awesome._ ” Robin breathed, sandwiched between Doree and Loree- they were quickly becoming thick as thieves. “She seems like a hell of an old lady.”

Sansa exhaled a shaky breath as she watched them play the clip over, for some reason, talking about Sansa’s major and her schooling, and one voice bit stood out.

 _“-haven’t been able to get any sort of statement from any of Ms. Stark’s professors, most of whom have outright refused to comment on the situation.”_ The main anchor read off, looking directly into the camera. Sansa’s stomach dropped, and she exhaled in relief.

“Well that’s good, right?” Arya asked, leaning over towards Sansa. “None of them seem to be talking!”

“They probably can’t air Dr. Wright’s response, even if he gives them one.” Sansa muttered, only half-aware of what she was saying. “He’s the most foulmouthed old man I’ve ever met. Fantastic tailor, though.”

“Mordane was the one you did your independent project with this semester though, right?” Mya asked. Sansa nodded.

Out of everyone that could have talked to the news- other than Mya, Dr. Mordane knew how Petyr had felt about Sansa’s major, and how frustrating that had been for her, better than anyone else alive. It was no small relief to see her tell a reporter to get lost, and Sansa loved her a bit more for it. She’d been a grueling taskmaster, but she’d always pushed Sansa to do better, and the fact that Sansa’s secrets were apparently safe with the older woman made something in her relax.

It was still bad- it was still _really_ bad- the way that everyone she knew seemed to be talking with the press, but knowing that not everyone would- knowing that her favorite professor would respect Sansa’s privacy- that a casual friend would risk criminal charges to ruin a camera and a news clip for Sansa- made her feel just a little bit better about her situation, even as they heard murmurs of Ned and Catelyn’s frantic conversation with Oberyn, Daemon, and Ellaria in the next room as they tried to work out what was going to happen next.

Sansa had the feeling she was going to be seeing Winterfell sooner than she had expected.

She hoped someone did something about dinner soon- Sansa wasn’t sure she could even _swallow_ right now, but Robin would need something before too long. He’d had a rough day, meeting his biological father, and he’d been curled into her side for most of the day since.

Sansa felt like everything had been going at top speed since that morning- since she had woken up to the television and her phone blaring the news about her discovery. Decisions were being made right and left, and all she could do was hang on tight and try not to get blown away by the media storm. She didn’t know if she was feeling too much or not enough, and all she could do was stare at the screen as her life was unfolded without her permission, Dr. Mordane excepted.

No one seemed to care very much what Sansa thought, or wanted, right now anyways though, and so she stayed silent.

* * *

**MONDAY, 8:00 pm, Braavosi News Network (BNN)**

“The Westerosi Bureau of Investigation has issued another limited statement-“ the anchor read off the paper that had just been handed to them, “The Bureau is thrilled that Ms. Stark has been safely located and recovered, and Ms. Stark is currently meeting with her family and getting to better know them. The Bureau would ask for privacy on behalf of the Stark family, and as that people respect them in this time of joy amidst the tragedy that befell their family eighteen years ago. Currently, the Bureau is not at liberty to comment on the ongoing investigation, and asks for privacy in order to conduct a thorough investigation into the initial crime, as well as any additional crimes of the perpetrator.”

* * *

**MONDAY, 11:45 am, Winterfell**

“Thank you _so_ much, Tormund.” Elia told him, watching Rickon wince from the weight of the desk in his hands as he helped his rugby coach carry it into the room they were preparing for Sansa. “I can’t tell you how much we appreciate this.”

“You know, I’ve always wondered if your bushy ginger eyebrows block your vision.” Another voice slid up from behind Elia, placing a gentle hand on her back. “But you didn’t hit a single wall or doorframe on the way up, so either Rickon did all the steering, or I owe Bran ten bucks.”

“You owe me ten bucks.” Bran deadpanned, not even turning to face Lyanna. Elia chuckled as Tormund howled with laughter, almost dropping the desk on Rickon’s foot at one point, causing him to swear violently before mouthing an apology to Elia.

“Not a problem, Martell.” Tormund chuckled, wiping actual tears from his eyes as he and Rickon set the drafting table down by the window. “You mind me askin’ what it’s for?”

“We got a call from Catelyn earlier-“ Elia told him, handing him a glass of water, “She’d been frantically going through online listings apparently, and arranged for this particular desk to be delivered for the room.”

“For- ah- Sansa, then?” Tormund asked, slapping Rickon on the back. “Good workout, kid.”

“Does it get me outta running laps at practice?” Rickon muttered, panting as he leaned against the table. Tormund hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“Not a chance.” Tormund promised, with a grin like a drunk pirate. “All you little bastards are gonna do at least fifteen.”

“With the news breaking, I think she’ll be coming back with Ned and Cat sooner than we expected.” Elia admitted, her eyes glancing around the room they’d been preparing. Lya bumped her hip against hers, and Elia gave her a small smile, putting her arm around her wife.

“Was pretty surprised to see it on the TV last night.” Tormund admitted, hands on his hips. “Everything alright here?”

“Well, I’ve been at work for most of the day trying to corral the whole damn thing, and was there until about 11 last night, so depends on your definition of ‘alright’.” Lyanna snorted, leaning into Elia slightly. “Believe me, if we get tabloid reporters trying to break into the grounds again, we’ll get you and the rugby team here to kick their asses out.”

“Solid plan.” Tormund grinned through his haphazard beard. “Sounds like a decent workout for the lads. Jon coming back for the whole thing, then?”

“He’s planning on flying back after his exams.” Elia told him, carefully moving her arm and body to accommodate the way Lyanna seemed to be leaning against her torso. It was somewhat concerning- Lyanna had a tendency to work herself into the ground and completely ignore her body’s response, and Elia was going to force her to go to bed early by any means necessary.

“Tell him he better come see us down at the pub while he’s here.” Tormund grinned. “C’mon, berserker-“ he said, addressing Rickon, “-Let’s go run a few drills while I’m here. Ya look like you’re thinkin’ too much.”

Lyanna snorted, but Elia mouthed a thank you at the man as Rickon turned his back, and Tormund tipped her an enormous wink. Rickon had been agitated all morning- running a couple drills with his coach would do wonders for alleviating his anxiety. As they headed outside, Elia decided to tackle the problem of her wife’s sleep-deprivation before she talked to Bran.

“Did Jeor send you home for a few hours?” she asked Lyanna, practically holding the smaller woman up as they stood in what was destined to be Sansa’s room.

“For a bit of sleep.” Lyanna nodded, giving a toothy yawn. “Needs me back later, though.”

“Then go to _sleep_ you goose.” Elia told her affectionately, running her finger’s through Lyanna’s thick, dark hair. Jon had inherited her curls, and it was one of her favorite things about them both. “We’ve got the rest handled here.”

“I thought you were handling a case?” Lyanna sleepily asked, looking up in adorable confusion.

“Horrible as it is to say, my client’s not getting any more dead.” Elia told her, bopping her nose with a finger. “I told his family I had a family emergency of my own, and that we could handle the estate in a few days. They weren’t thrilled, but it’s not the end of the world if I don’t figure out whether his will leaves his vintage car collection to his sons or to his wife.”

“Sounds like quite the family.” Lya mused.

“It really is.” Elia agreed. “Bran, honey, I’ll be right back!” she called, slowly escorting Lyanna towards the top of the stairs.

“Sorry El.” Lya murmured. “Had a crisis of ethics, and got scolded, and had to write one hell of an article, and I haven’t slept since Saturday- I meant to come help you with Bran and Rick and getting things ready-“

“You’re doing what you can to help Ned and Cat and the kids from where you _are_.” Elia affectionately told her, leaning down to kiss her gently. “My only complaint is that you taste like that horrible coffee Jeor drinks.”

“It was all we had left by about four in the morning.” Lyanna groaned. Elia chuckled, smoothing Lyanna’s hair back from her face.

“Just get some sleep.” She told her, gently. “I’ve got everything handled here- and they need you at full intellectual capacity the next few days, so you’re going to need to get that sleep while you can. Do you want to crash in one of the rooms up here, or should I walk you back to our house?”

“It’s like you think I’ll get lost.” Lya whined, wrinkling her nose.

“More like I’m worried you’ll get distracted if you stumble into Rick’s practice with his coach and start heckling.” Elia chuckled. Lya paused for a second, considering.

“Yeah, that’s fair.” She admitted. “If you want to walk with me back to the house that would be good- I’ve gotta brush my teeth before Jeor’s damn coffee takes the enamel off them.”

* * *

When she returned, Bran was wheeling himself around the room, adjusting things, and checking his list obsessively.

“Hey Hon.” Elia greeted, leaning against the doorframe. “Did you eat lunch yet?”

“I just wanted to double-check the list.” Bran told her, anxiety lining his voice. “Mum’s been texting me about it- I don’t want anything to be wrong with the room.”

“I think your mum would prefer that you keep eating.” Elia told him, gently, wondering how sleep-deprived Catelyn was if she was relying on Bran to get this all worked out. He was a competent kid, but Cat normally tried to keep the kids from feeling her stress on things like this. “We can order something special if you want to come down with me.”

“There’s too much to do up here.” Bran checked it again, and then his phone. “I can’t.”

“Bran-“ Elia sighed.

“You can always just move me if you want to.” Bran snapped, holding the list tight enough to tear it with the stress, and Elia’s heart ached for him.

“You know I’m not going to do that.” she quietly told him. “You get to decide what you do and where you go- I just think that right now, some lunch would be good for both of us.”

There was a pause, and Elia saw his hands shaking as he blinked, rapidly.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, his voice thick.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” Elia told him, coming over to stand next to him where he sat by the desk they’d brought up for Sansa when she got here. “You’ve done a fantastic job getting things together here, honey.”

“Mum seems to think she’ll like having a drawing table.” Bran sniffled, reaching up to wipe his eyes. “I guess they’re getting to know her.”

“We’re all going to get to do that soon.” She pointed out, her voice soft. “And it’s not just one way- she’s going to be getting to know us too.”

“It’s kind of a terrifying thought.” Bran told her, his voice wavering. He might be an adult in the eyes of the law, but in light of the situation, he was reminding her of when he would have anxiety attacks as a child. She couldn’t blame him- she was anxious enough herself.

“Why is that?” she asked, perching herself on the desk chair next to him.

“What if we make things worse for her?” Bran asked, quietly. “What if she’s too traumatized by everything to enjoy any of this? We’ve known she was missing for as long as I’ve been alive, but Sansa’s only known for a few days, from what Arya’s said.” His breath hitched. “What if- what if she doesn’t want to know any of us?”

“Oh, honey.“ Elia told him, reaching up a hand to stroke his hair away from his face. She remembered doing this with a much smaller Bran, and it had always made him smile. “That’s a lot of what-if’s.” she gave him a crooked smile. “You know, you’re probably one of the only people thinking about that with Sansa- that she’s only had a few days to get used to what we’ve known for what seems like forever. I don’t know if I thought about it that way before, and it’s _incredibly_ thoughtful of you to do that.”

“Seems like there’s a ‘but’ coming.” Bran turned to face her, giving her a small smile with red eyes.

“There’s not.” Elia shook her head, grinning at him. “I think Sansa’s going to _love_ you for being kind enough to think of her feelings that way. I mean, look what you’ve put together here for her- did you dig those old books out of Ned’s library?”

“I thought she might like something to read.” Bran blushed, endearingly.

“She probably will.” Elia told him, her eyes gentle. “You’ve gone out of your way at this point to make sure that she feels comfortable here, and at this point, that’s all we can do. Unfortunately, we can’t really control what happens, emotionally, when she comes back and gets to know everyone. All we can do is let it play out.”

“I hate doing that.” Bran muttered, pouting slightly.

“You and me both, honey.” Elia laughed, ruffling his hair again. This time, he grinned at her a bit. “Come on- a bit of food is going to do us both some good here- I think you’ve done more than enough with the room here, and I have a new challenge for you if you’re up for it.”

“Fine.” Bran conceded, grumbling good-naturedly as he wheeled out in front of Elia, headed towards the kitchen. “What kind of challenge are we talking about? And can we order Lyseni food?”

“Absolutely- that sounds _delicious_ -“ Elia grinned, “-and we’ve got two more rooms to put together for Jon Arryn and his son, Robin, who’s been living as Sansa’s little brother in Braavos.”

Bran screeched to a halt, turning his chair abruptly to give her an incredulous look. She resisted the urge to grin. Nothing drew Bran out of an anxiety attack like new information.

“ _Who_ has been _what?_ ”

“We have to order the food before I’m giving you details.” Elia told him, raising her eyebrow. “We’re not wiggling out of lunch, and I want to make sure we order enough food to feed your brother and his coach- and my wife, now that I think about it.”

“That’s fair.” Bran conceded, heading towards to elevator downstairs. “Aunt Lya seems like a bit of a hot mess.”

Elia chuckled.

“That’s fair, honey.”

* * *

**MONDAY, 2:30 pm, King’s Landing**

“I told you it wasn’t my bloody tip!” Cersei hissed, digging her fingernails into the arm of the chair as she spoke with her father. The entire office was soundproofed and was one of the few places they ever discussed this particular case. “We didn’t _want_ the attention on the little tramp, father!”

“No, you just wanted to silence the problem in the clumsiest, most _idiotic_ way possible!” Tywin hissed. “My contacts at the Braavosi Police told me that they’re beginning to look into facilities manufacturing scorpions-“

“And you’re going to let me take the fall for it?” Cersei asked, coldly, drawing herself up to her full height. Her father was still seated, angry enough to kill, she was sure, but she wasn’t one to be cowed. “You’ll let the children suffer the fate of an imprisoned mother, all for a scandal that I had no _hand_ in?”

“You hired Mandon Moore to kill a suspect in WBI custody in the most _clumsy, idiotic_ way possible.” Her father told her accusingly, punctuating every word.

“To fix a problem _you_ created!” Cersei cried, glaring at her father. “He’s a pariah among the Westerosi military for his public support of that group advocating anarchy in Mereen right now- that Harpy group- and there’s a warrant out for his arrest for his attempted murder of the imp.” She snarled. “He hasn’t been back to Westeros in _years_.”

“He may be politically supporting either a separatist political movement, or aiding a known terrorist group- whichever we’re calling them these days- but he’s still ex-special forces.” Tywin growled. “I don’t _care_ if he attempted to kill your brother, there’s a _direct_ link between him and you through your oaf of a husband-“

“The oaf that you were _thrilled_ I married-“

“Don’t interrupt me!” Tywin roared, and Cersei had to stop herself from reeling back. There was _murder_ in her father’s eyes, and she was just uncertain enough that she didn’t know who or what it was going to direct itself towards right now. “Did you think we weren’t putting agents in Braavosi prisons to take care of him _quietly_?” he hissed. “It was _taken care of_ , and now we have to chase Moore- a man _very_ well trained in concealment and espionage- across a continent _twice_ the size of Westeros in addition to silencing Baelish! It complicated _everything_ because you assumed you were the only person _bloody_ smart enough to anticipate that Littlefinger might be a complication.”

“I was taking care of it!” she snapped. “Protecting my family from _your_ stupid plots and plans!” she bared her teeth at him. “I wouldn’t _have_ to have done any of it if you hadn’t gotten us involved in the first place!”

“I’m done speaking about this.” Tywin told her, abruptly, his eyes colder than she’d ever seen. “Get back to your children- and even if this media fiasco isn’t of your doing, don’t say a _word_ to them or the media about any of it, or it will be on your own head.”

* * *

**MONDAY, 6:10pm, King’s Landing**

“How’d it go with the bastard?” Theon’s voice greeted him when he answered his phone.

“Hello to you too.” Aegon muttered, slamming his car door to head into his apartment building. “He won’t stop asking me questions- like I know more than he does at this point or something.”

“Worse than usual?”

“Definitely.” Aegon muttered, absentmindedly greeting his doorman as he headed into the elevator. “Dad has a way of making things about him, and this really isn’t any different. He keeps saying that he’s ‘concerned for Lyanna and Elia’, which is bullshit- he just wants to know what’s going on.”

“I mean, I think everyone does.” Theon pointed out. “I get that it’s really personal for your family, man, but it’s a story that people are curious about. Not all of them are going to be assholes about it.”

“He called Mum like, six times.” Aegon groaned, letting the back of his head thunk against the wall. There was a brief silence on the other end.

“Is he still _alive_?” Theon asked, incredulously.

“She hasn’t been answering.” He snorted. “I talked to her at lunch and she’s mad as _hell_ about it, but she’s too buried in work to do anything about him. He talked to Ama though- she was, as usual, way too nice to him, but did that thing she does sometimes where she blindsides you with like, weaponized kindness, but then gives you zero information.”

Theon whistled.

“Wish I could do that.”

“Your face is too mean for that, mate.” Aegon chuckled. “I think she learned it in law school, anyways.”

There was a pause.

“So- how are you, man?” Theon finally broke the silence. “Like, really, how are you doing with all this?”

“I-“ Aegon sighed as he opened his apartment door, tossing his bag down before he let himself fall onto his messy couch, “I don’t know, man.”

“What do you mean? Good? Bad? Like the time that Lyseni girl broke up with you, or like that time when your cat died?”

“Not as bad as the cat.” Aegon told him, glancing out the window. The weather was obnoxiously sunny, like his world hadn’t just gotten turned upside-down. “It’s weird, honestly. Like, my stomach’s been doing this weird thing all day- I mean, I’m nervous about going to meet her eventually, you know? But like, right now it just feels weird. It’s like having front row tickets to a tragedy in real-time.”

“Dramatic, but I get it.” Theon responded. “You feel like you’re looking in on everything?”

“Yeah- think that’s it.” Aegon sighed. “I mean, we were living there at the time, and I remember when it happened, and like, felt all the impacts of it the first time, with reporters everywhere and ama and mum getting super-protective over all of us. I remember how confusing it was when I was a kid, and I saw how hard it was on the Starks, and they’re like my family, but it doesn’t feel like it’s my tragedy to be upset about, I guess.”

“Well yeah, but like, it impacted you a lot, man.” Theon pointed out. “I mean, you told me once that when you were younger, you had security guards taking you to school for a couple years? And how upset everyone would get near the abduction anniversary and everything- you guys lived it along with the Starks.”

“I think the security guards were the only thing that ama and mum actually have agreed with dad about in like, twenty years.” Aegon snorted.

“Yeah, but most people don’t get escorted to second grade with like, armed guys.” Theon pointed out. “That isn’t a normal thing, mate.”

“I mean, yeah, so it impacted us more than other people.” He admitted. “But I mean- it didn’t impact me the way it impacted Robb.”

“He was in the room with her when she was taken, right?”

“Yeah, and he’s never forgiven himself for that.” Aegon muttered, his tone somber. “I mean, he was a _kid_ for fuck’s sake.”

“Well yeah, but you know how Robb is with logic like that.”

“Yeah.” Aegon sighed. “I’m worried about him, man. I mean, his _face_ has been on the news, for fuck’s sake.”

“Have you talked to him at all since the news broke? I called him, but Talisa answered.”

“Briefly last night.” Aegon told him. “I mean, he seemed upset, but I don’t know if I really got the full picture. He seemed like he was keeping stuff in, though, which isn’t good.”

“Shit.” Theon muttered. “Is he drinking?”

“Jon was drinking with him the other night.” Aegon snorted. “I’m still pissed at him for that- like, I know he’s tired with exams, but like, sometimes I really don’t think he sees past that sort of like, goofy front that Robb puts on when he’s upset and doesn’t want to show it. He’s been doing okay the past few years with booze, but like, giving him that right after a huge trigger?”

“Yeah, well Jon’s a moron sometimes.” Theon snorted. “But he’s also really sleep-deprived right now, so that might have something to do with the lapse in judgement.” He paused for a second. “You’re probably right that he doesn’t always see that though- but it’s not really his language. He gets broody and quiet, where Robb’s just going to get more boisterous when he’s upset like you do.”

“Ouch.” Aegon winced. “That’s right in the heart, man.”

“You two were both being total bozos in the group chat the other day.” Theon pointed out. “I’m only calling it like I see it.”

“Yeah, I know.” Aegon muttered. “I guess the whole thing is just complicated, and I want to make sure that like, the Starks are okay and do what I can to help if Rhae hasn’t already tried to do it all herself and fallen over from exhaustion.”

“That’s gonna be rough.” Aegon could almost hear Theon’s wince. “Maybe she’ll tone it down if you get her to bring that fancy boyfriend of hers.”

“True.” Aegon acknowledged, grinning. “You’re just looking for an excuse to bring Jeyne up with you, though. I mean, if Rhae’s bringing a significant other…”

“I don’t know that she’s ready for that.” Theon said, far more quiet and serious than he normally was. “She hasn’t been back north since everything happened, and I think she was trying to take some summer classes to catch up with where she wants to be in her master’s program, anyways.”

“Yeah, but she’s doing like, clinical psych, right?” Aegon asked. “She’d probably know how to treat Sansa better than any of us. I mean- I just know I’m gonna mess something up and freak her out.”

Theon chuckled.

“I haven’t even been officially _invited_ to come up to Winterfell, man”

“That’s because Robb’s distracted.” Aegon snorted. “ _I’m_ inviting you, right now, then. You’re good as family, far as I’m concerned, and I love my siblings, but both of them always think they’re right about everything, and it’s going to be exhausting to watch them try to single-handedly corral everyone.”

“Hey, whatever works, mate.”

* * *

**MONDAY, 5:37pm, Oldtown**

“Hello?”

“From the sounds of it, we’re going to get to meet Sansa earlier than we thought.” Rhaenys’ voice came from his phone.

“Why does everyone seem to think I’m the authority on this?” Jon complained.

“Aunt Dany called you too, I guess?” Rhae asked, sounding somewhat sour about it.

“Yeah.” Jon muttered, putting a hand to his forehead. “She wants me on her team.”

“Okaaay- I’m going to let you stew over that one for a while before we chat about it.” His older sister quickly backpedaled. “From what I managed to get from Robb, you’re headed up first because you already had a plane ticket back, and Robb and Tal are going to get there a few days later. I’m going to get there about a week after you- I don’t know if Will is coming up with me or not, and I think Egg and Theon are going to follow after that.”

“How many people did you have to call to get all of that?” Jon asked, incredulously.

“Like, everyone.” Rhaenys brushed off. “It’s okay- it’s a good distraction.”

“A distraction?” Jon asked, instantly suspicious. “From what?”

“Oh, work’s just a little stressful because of the publicity of the case.” Rhaenys told him. “Nothing more than that- parking’s a mess near the WBI building, it’s been _swarmed_ with reporters- just stuff like that.”

“Sure.” Jon said, not convinced in the slightest. If Rhae wanted to keep something to herself, though, it was like trying to interrogate a brick wall with a tennis ball. It was just going to keep getting bounced back to you in different directions, until she’d distracted you enough to forget about what you wanted to know. “Any word on the Stark uncles?”

“I’m not sure- I don’t know if they’ve planned anything out with Brandon yet.” Rhae said, the sound of a blender in the background. “And honestly, weird as it is, I don’t know if Benjen _knows_ yet.”

“He’s still out on that expedition up north?” Jon asked. “Are you making a smoothie for dinner again?”

“I think he is, yeah.” Rhae absently answered. “And no, I’m making a fancy chocolate coffee drink with ice because it’s too hot for anything else.”

“Ew.” Jon wrinkled his nose. “How’s that proposal Will’s trying to get through at the museum going?”

“He’s got them, it’s just going to take a lot of schmoozing and chatting up wealthy, elderly donors- several of whom are probably distantly related.” She told him. “He’s got a thing there tonight, so I’m headed over to have dinner with Marge.” She paused for a second. “You know, it feels kind of strange to keep doing normal things when this has all happened. When it’s all the news can talk about, and all the gossip I hear in shops is about it, and people are tossing around these absolutely _crazy_ theories…”

“Yeah.” Jon agreed, shutting the book he’d been going through. “It still feels a little surreal, honestly. I mean- I’m worried that we’re all going to mess everything up when we meet her. Like- Arya says she’s nice, and kind of chill, but what does that actually _mean_ in the grand scheme of things? What kind of trauma are we supposed to anticipate here? I mean, what’s going to happen when she meets Robb?”

“Probably a pretty decent emotional reaction.” Rhaenys told him. “Robb’s been struggling with this for a while.”

“Yeah but what if he freaks Sansa out or something?” Jon agitatedly ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, he kind of freaked out on me the other night on the phone- got super angry when I said that it was inevitable that Sansa was going to struggle a bit.” He paused. “I don’t know what to do about him.”

“Backing off might be a good place to start.” Rhaenys told him, her tone not nearly as warm as it had been.

“What the hell do you mean?”

“It means that you’re not the one in charge of regulating Robb’s emotions.” His sister told him. “You _know_ how he’s been struggling with this-“

“Yeah, but what if he makes things worse with Sansa?”

“Then he makes things worse!” Rhaenys exclaimed. “Then they get all of that stuff _out_ and in the open- Robb’s had a hard time with this more than any of us- he gets to react how he reacts, and frankly, I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit here.” Jon wasn’t sure if she was stopping for breath at all in between sentences she was talking so quickly. “He genuinely _wants_ Sansa to be comfortable and happy, Jon. That’s part of the reason he’s so tense, but like, no matter how much you plan and try to arrange everyone according to what you think is going to be best, some things are just going to be messy here. It’s a messy situation all around.”

Jon snorted.

“That’s rich coming from _you_ of all people. Aren’t you arranging flights and times?”

“I’m not trying to arrange people’s _emotions_ , Jon.” Rhae told him, her voice icy. “You don’t need to _do_ anything about Robb- just show up, be fucking supportive, and let him have the emotional catharsis he’s been waiting to get for eighteen goddamn years.”

“Rhae-“

“I _know_ you’re worried about Robb, and Sansa and everyone else.” Rhae told him, ignoring his attempt at conversation completely. “Look, I know you’re sleep-deprived with exams, and stressed about everything, and super sensitive to everyone’s emotions, but just like, calm down a bit.” Her voice was warmer now, and Jon sat back, the kindness in her voice making him feel more guilty than before. “It’s gonna happen- we just have to let it happen.”

“I’m not _trying_ to be a dick.” Jon muttered, running his hand through his unruly hair again. “I’m just worried we’re going to put all these _expectations_ on Sansa, and I’m kind of worried about Robb- not with that part!” he hastily told his sister, not wanting another lecture, “But about how he’s doing with all this, and how he’s handling it.”

“Yeah, but Robb’s got a _lot_ of people who care about him-“ Rhae gently pointed out, “It’s not just you. And Robb isn’t the _only_ person stressed about this. Have you talked to Bran at all? Or Rickon, or Arya?”

Jon felt a jab of guilt run through his stomach.

“Not much.” He muttered.

“I mean, if you want to do some emotional lifting, maybe give one of them a call.” Rhaenys gently nudged him. “Arya’s going to probably start feeling pretty weird being around her parents _and_ Sansa, and you’ve always been closer to her.” she paused. “But maybe get some sleep first, because this isn’t like you, and I think that’s probably a contributor.”

“Yeah.” Jon muttered. “You’re probably right. In addition to all that stress Aunt Dany dumped on me.”

Rhae paused for a second.

“Yeah, that’s fair.” She acknowledged. “She’s- she can be a lot. Try not to think about it too much right now. Get some sleep, though. Whatever exam you have in the morning, you’ve probably studied enough.” Rhae reminded him. He _hated_ when she did this- pulled the big sister act on him. He hated it even more when she was right. “When’s your flight back?”

“Early tomorrow afternoon.” He told her, checking the itinerary. “I’m pretty much taking my exam and going right there.”

“They’re arriving on Thursday I think.” Rhae told him- he could hear papers shuffling over the phone. “I’m sure Ama could use some help getting things ready. Play some soccer with Rickon- spend some time with Bran. They’re not Sansa or Robb, but I think they could use you too.”

* * *

**MONDAY, 9:30 pm, Braavosi News Network (BNN)**

“People have been throwing around the idea of Stockholm syndrome, and some have been claiming it’s speculation to talk about it, but what do you think?“ The anchor asked, leaning over the table slightly to ask the other commentator.

“Oh it’s absolutely a possibility.” The commentator nodded. “In fact, now that we know more around the circumstances of her captivity, I think it becomes less a possibility and more just a known factor. I mean, Sansa Stark was living with Petyr Baelish- a man that the WBI actually _looked into,_ initially, when she was kidnapped- but she was living as his daughter. She was living as Alayne Baelish- living in his house with his other son- with next to no protest. People who knew her are saying that she seemed to care for him. It’ll be interesting to watch it play out whenever the trial begins.”

* * *

**TUESDAY, 10:45 am, Braavos**

Sansa looked down as her phone buzzed- she didn’t know the number, but Oberyn had assured her that there was nothing to suggest that her phone number had been released to the public and media- apparently that sort of thing was illegal in Braavos- and so she took the time to pick up and answer, carefully.

Ellaria, Robin, and the girls had gone out to run a few errands with Daemon as their security detail- Sansa had decided to stay at the townhouse, as not to turn them into a media circus- and Oberyn was at the station, likely interrogating more of the officers about the leak. Sansa was trying not to think about it, and trying to just enjoy having the house to herself for at least an hour- if she didn’t count the security detail of her own outside. Mya had gone home, and had been texting as often as she could.

She only felt mildly guilty for being relieved that Ned and Cat had taken the afternoon to arrange their travel to Westeros, but doing it back in their hotel suite. They were incredibly kind people, but there was an element of expectation in their faces, and they just looked so _happy_ and incredulous every time one of them would steal a glance at her. It had been a lot, on top of the news leaking. 

“Hello?” she answered, politely. The line was silent. “Hello?” she tried again, to hear a strange beep, before an automated voice began speaking.

 _You have a call from the Southwest Braavosi penitentiary._ The voice said. _Do you wish to accept the call?_

Sansa dropped the glass she’d been holding in her other hand, paying little attention to the water and glass shards that were spread out on the floor in front of her. She wasn’t sure her legs would even move if she tried, though, and Sansa already felt like she’d been spending the last few weeks walking on glass, so she wasn’t sure that actually walking on glass would feel much different.

Her breathing quickly grew erratic, and her hands were shaking. The robot voice repeated the message.

_You have a call from the Southwest Braavosi penitentiary. Do you wish to accept the call? Press ‘1’ if you wish to accept._

Sansa didn’t know why- a part of her was screaming internally that this was a horrible idea- that she should be doing ANYTHING else but this- that this couldn’t end well- but she pulled the phone away from her ear and carefully pressed ‘1’ on the keypad.

 _One moment, please._ The voice instructed.

Sansa carefully and slowly lifted her phone to her ear.

“Hello?” she nearly whispered, not nearly as friendly as she had been earlier.

“Hello Sansa.” Petyr’s oily voice came through the phone. “I’ve quite missed you, Sweetling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author is going to LOVE when everyone is in the same time zone again.
> 
> I'm not sure if you guys are going to love this cliffhanger, or try to track me down and burn me at the stake for it. I had a draft of this chapter ready when I posted the last one, but just wasn't happy with it, and rewrote this entire thing TWICE which was a huge pain in the neck, but ultimately worth it. This chapter is a twenty-six page monster, and I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> Sansa's not featured as prominently in this chapter, because she's emotionally overwhelmed, and disassociating more than a little. It's also more a chapter about the media, and people's subsequent responses than anything, so Sansa's the main character here in the way that Luke Skywalker was the main character in 'The Force Awakens'. 
> 
> Lyanna’s scene with Jeor Mormont was one that I really felt needed to be included, because it kind of gets into some journalism ethical snafu's and sort of makes you think about how the ethical consumption of true crime can happen. She’s in an interesting position, being that close to the Starks, but there’s a conflict of interest there that kind of makes you think. With the Starks being public figures, as they essentially are in this story, to what extent do they have the right to keep information to themselves, and what does the public have a right to know? I know you guys came here for Jonsa, and here I am going on about journalism ethics, ten chapters in with no Jonsa yet. 
> 
> But hey! They’re going to meet next chapter!!!!!!!!!!!! (I’m pretty excited- I hope I do it justice for you guys)
> 
> Jon doesn’t come across in the best light here, which is kind of intentional. Everyone’s dealing with a lot, and they’re not all handling it well. Jon’s kind of been infantilizing a lot of Robb’s actions and feelings, partially due to sleep deprivation from exams, and partially due to kind of a fundamental difference in the way that he and Robb process things. (He’s also a lil stressed out about his phone call with Dany). Jon’s dealing with the situation like everyone else, and he’s trying to make like it’s everyone but him who’s been affected, and Rhae and Aegon (who let me just remind you, are both slightly older than Jon, so they’ve got that older sibling vibe check thing going) can see this pretty easily because they know him so well. In some ways, it’s a similarity Jon shares with Sansa- keeping his feelings locked up- but where Sansa just keeps doing it more and more, Jon gets a bit moody, and projects more. Aegon’s a bit annoyed because he and Robb have more similar coping mechanisms and he’s frustrated that Jon doesn’t see that, especially given how observant Jon is, and no matter how much you love your siblings, there are always going to be things they do that piss you off. (Aegon and Theon's conversation might be one of my favorite parts of the chapter, honestly). 
> 
> Writing Rhae dressing him down was quite something- she’s the oldest out of all the Stark/Targ kids at Winterfell, and despite what she’s telling Jon about not treating people like they’re things to handle, she’s absolutely trying to micromanage everything she can about the situation, while not telling either of her brothers about getting called into the Deputy Director’s office to be interrogated (something which probably really freaked her out and made her worry for her career), so there’s a lot to unpack with this group. Rickon's trying to work it off, Elia's trying to make sure everyone's good, and Bran's quietly panicking and trying to make everything perfect. We don't see much Arya or Robb in this chapter, which mostly has to do with not making this insanely long, and also that they're going to be pretty prominent next time. 
> 
> Next time, we head to Westeros, check in with Arya and Robb, see how Sansa's doing as she meets the fam (and Jon!), and see what happens from that little cliffhanger... :) 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who leaves me a kind review, leaves a lovely comment, leaves kudos, bookmarks- all of you guys are great, and I'm so glad you're enjoying this work as much as I'm enjoying writing it! You're all fantastic! Come say hi to me on tumblr sometime- i'm @mkstrigidae :)


	11. Sky Full of Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Starks returning to Winterfell for the first time with Sansa and Robin, the two meet a few new faces, the benefits of therapy are discussed, and we learn that Sansa has something of a mischievous sense of humor when encouraged. 
> 
> Arya's created a monster.

“Spider venom comes in many forms. It can often take a long while to discover the full effects of the bite. Naturalists have pondered this for years: there are spiders whose bite can cause the place bitten to rot and to die, sometimes more than a year after it was bitten. As to why spiders do this, the answer is simple. It's because spiders think this is funny, and they don't want you ever to forget them.” 

― **Neil Gaiman,** **Anansi Boys**

* * *

“Hello Sansa.” Petyr’s oily voice came through the phone. “I’ve quite missed you, Sweetling.”

“Hello father.” Sansa replied, trying to keep her voice from shaking. Petyr chuckled, and Sansa knew he hadn’t missed the nervous twinge running through her speech. “How are you?” It was a stupid thing to ask, she knew, but she was still shaky, and her brain didn’t seem to want to cooperate.

“Oh, I’m a bit under the weather.” Petyr drawled. Sansa couldn’t help herself, and immediately reverted back to habit.

“Are you feeling alright?” she quickly asked, carefully moving a few steps to avoid the broken glass. “Have you seen a physician?”

“The overall quality of prison medical care is horrific.” Petyr told her, sounding for all intents and purposes like they were merely discussing the weather. “I’m decently healthy, Sweetling, but prison is horribly boring.”

Sansa could practically _see_ his lip curling in disgust. Poor medical care was one thing, but he _hated_ being bored.

“I’m- I’m sorry to hear that.” She told him, heart racing. Why was he calling? What did he _want?_

“Are you really, now?” Petyr asked her, almost sounding amused. There was an edge to his tone, though, that set Sansa’s teeth crawling. “After all, it was your DNA that condemned me to this- this rotting hellhole. They’ve put me in solitary confinement, Sansa, and it is your fault I’m here, after all.”

“Father-“ Sansa desperately tried to diffuse the conversation, but he cut her off immediately.

“How could you have been so foolish as to trust Oberyn Martell, Sansa? To trust the WBI? To give them your _blood_ for god’s sake.” His voice was soft and velvet, and Sansa knew that voice. She knew _exactly_ how angry he was right now.

“I didn’t want-“

“How could you have betrayed me like that, Sweetling?” he asked, something harsh and mournful welling up in his words. “After the life I gave you- after everything I’ve done for you?”

“I thought- I thought it would _exonerate_ you.” She whispered, feeling tears well up in her eyes. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

It was half a truth.

Petyr gave a deep sigh, tsking, and Sansa could picture his expression of resignation as easily as though he were standing next to her.

“Never mind that, Sweetling- you couldn’t have been expected to know.” He told her, his voice softening, becoming closer to the indulgent tone she was used to. “You just aren’t suited to decision-making in situations like this. You should have let your father take care of this.”

 _But you’re not my father_. Sansa thought, desperately trying to figure out what to say.

There was a pause, and Petyr inhaled, sharply.

“I can tell what you’re thinking, Sansa.” he said, to answer Sansa’s deafening silence. “I’ll ask you this- who was it who raised you? Who took care of you when you were sick, and loved you even when you expressly went against my wishes to study fashion in school?”

“I didn’t mean-“ Sansa desperately tried to tell him.

“Even now, I love you, and care about you, Sweetling.” Petyr interrupted her, and Sansa wanted to vomit at the relief that spread through her limbs at hearing those words. “Even though you did act against me, I know it wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have expected you to be capable enough to know how horrible the consequences of your actions would be.”

Sansa knew what he wanted to hear, and swallowed.

“I’m sorry, father.” She whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“I have to go, Sweetling-“ Petyr’s voice was back to it’s usual oily drawl, “But I just had to speak to you- to make sure you were alright. Be careful, Sansa, and take care of your brother.”

“I will.” She responded, gripping the edge of the table to keep herself from stumbling into the glass she’d broken, knuckles white. “Of course, father.”

“I love you, Sweetling- you know that.”

The lie tasted bitter in Sansa’s throat, and she felt lightheaded.

“I love you too, father.”

* * *

Sansa stood there, breaths shallow and quick as she held her phone in a vice grip, staring at the screen. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t tell the Starks- they had enough to worry about already. She _certainly_ couldn’t say anything to Robin.

She couldn’t tell Mya- her best friend would keep her confidence in most situations, but Sansa just knew that she would go straight to Oberyn with this, and she knew that Oberyn would follow it all the way back to Petyr. She didn’t want him to get in trouble simply for calling her- she remembered how furious Oberyn had been with Petyr at the airport, and she didn’t want him _hurt_ regardless of what he had done. She didn’t want the inevitable conversation that would follow after with the Starks, and she didn’t want to see Catelyn’s face to contort in agony, and she didn’t want to see Ned’s sickened expression, and her thoughts kept piling up until they felt like a cement block, crushing her chest until she couldn’t breathe.

Sansa felt her stomach flip, and immediately darted around the glass, running in and locking the bathroom door behind her. She made it to the toilet just in time to fall to her knees on the cold, hard floor and vomit up everything she had eaten earlier in the day, her body shuddering as it contorted. She gulped, tears streaming down her face as she tried to take deep, gasping breaths, clutching the toilet seat as she shook.

By the time Ellaria returned, Sansa had cleaned up the glass and water, and apologized to Ellaria for tripping on the stairs and breaking it. She’d washed her face, and changed her clothing, and if there was a slight sheen to her eyes, and her skin was just a shade paler, no one seemed to notice.

* * *

Before they’d left for the airport- in the middle of the night to avoid tipping off the press- Ellaria had caught her in a huge hug and told her that she was always welcome to come visit, with Loree jumping up to wrap her arms around Sansa’s neck right before Doree hugged Sansa from behind. She’d smiled at the affectionate gestures, receiving an equally warm hug from Obella afterwards.

Surprisingly, though (other than, of course, Mya), it had been Oberyn who was most difficult for Sansa to say goodbye to. He’d become something of a shield for Sansa, since having her life upended, and she still wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea to rely so much on him. She trusted him, yes, but he was a busy man, and wouldn’t have time like this for her forever.

He _had_ been incredibly kind though- far more so than she deserved- welcoming her and Robin into his home, and doing everything he could to help them adjust. After her ‘interview’ with Detective Valman, Oberyn had personally gone to bat against the Braavosi police on her account, defending her against Valman’s insinuations, and had been as careful as he could when he’d had to question her. He’d been there when she met Ned and Cat, and he’d been _incredibly_ patient with Robin’s stubborn glares and silent treatment. She was using a highly trained agent of the WBI as a security blanket, Sansa knew, but she didn’t know how she was supposed to meet the rest of the Stark family without him there. 

He’d assured her not to worry too much, though, when he had bade her goodbye- as though he’d read her mind and realized what she was so anxious about.

“You’ll meet Ellie there-“ he’d told her, winking, “My sister. She’s far more reasonable than I am, but I know she’s just as eager to help you settle in as the rest of them are, so don’t hesitate to seek her out.”

“Thank you.” Sansa blurted suddenly, biting her tongue in embarrassment. “You know- for everything. For helping me with everything and bringing me into your home and being patient with Robin.”

Oberyn’s face had softened.

“No need to thank me, Sansa. You’re more resilient than you think.” He told her, a hand on her shoulder. “Just hang in there, and- and this is important-“ he’d given her a serious look, “-do not, at any time, hesitate to call me if you need anything. I mean it, Sansa.” He’d said, raising his eyebrows at the surprise on her face. “Any time of day, for any reason- you have my number, and I’m here if there’s anything you’re worried about, or need help with. I know Daemon’s told your brother the same thing- but I’m absolutely serious.”

“Thank you.” Sansa managed to get out, before throwing her arms around his neck in a move that surprised her as much as it seemed to surprise Oberyn, but he easily patted her back, and smiled when she pulled back, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

 _You haven’t told him._ Her mind whispered. _You still haven’t told him about Petyr’s call and he’s right here and he’s offering- and you still haven’t told him._

Her stomach twisted at the thought, and she shoved it down as much as she could. She didn’t know why, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. The words just got stuck in her throat, and she pasted on a smile as she refocused on Oberyn. She would tell him if Petyr called again- that was a good compromise.

 _Liar_. Her mind whispered.

“You’ll see my ugly mug again before you know it.” He told her, cheerfully. “And maybe if you’re up for it, I can introduce you to Nym- I’m sure she’d be glad to take you around her office if you’d like.”

Sansa could feel her eyes widen comically, and her mind immediately drawn away from unhappy thoughts. Nymeria Sand- Oberyn’s daughter? The one who wrote for _Westerosi Vogue_?

“I think I could die happy if I got to do that.” Sansa told him, before she could stop herself. He laughed, loud and hearty, and clapped her gently on the shoulder.

“Let’s maybe not go _quite_ that far.” He winked. “Just remember to take breaks- to find something to do for yourself- and remember that if you need to take some time alone, no one’s going to fault you for that.” His eyes were kind as he waved goodbye, and Sansa held onto the warm image of his family as they drove away in the dark, her head leaning against the window as Robin snuggled into her side.

* * *

Mya had made her a playlist, worrying that Sansa would get bored on the long flight, but Sansa couldn’t imagine ever being bored on a plane like this. It was a private jet- apparently belonging to Catelyn’s family, who hadn’t wanted to risk the potential press frenzy that could come from them flying commercial. Sansa didn’t remember ever having gotten on a plane before, so it was a novel experience. When Petyr had taken her and Robin to Pentos for one of the few vacations Sansa could remember, they had taken the train.

_“How could you have betrayed me like that, Sweetling? After the life I gave you- after everything I’ve done for you?”_

Sansa swallowed, stopping just short of physically shaking her head to quiet Petyr’s words from her mind. She couldn’t stop the guilt bubbling up into her throat at the thought of them- the thought of her silence- but maybe she could distract herself.

She had two entire seats to herself, across from Arya, who seemed occupied with some kind of handheld game. Sansa could stare out the window forever, though. It was a good way to forget. They were flying over the ocean, and it was a breathtakingly deep teal that she wished she could take a swatch of. Ned was asleep, beginning to snore slightly as his face relaxed, and Sansa had the feeling that Catelyn would be close behind him with the way her eyes were beginning to shut. Her stomach somersaulted when she thought of how it would hurt them if they knew she had talked to Petyr. She couldn’t do that- not when they looked so content.

She’d given Robin a Benadryl at the beginning of their flight, and he’d been out ever since- snoring quietly on the row of seats behind Sansa. He was nervous about meeting Jon Arryn in person, Sansa knew. They’d talked on the phone a couple times, and it seemed to go well, but Jon would be at Winterfell the day after they arrived, and meeting someone in person was far different from meeting them over the phone.

Sansa would know.

Robin had exchanged cell numbers with all of Ellaria and Oberyn’s girls, though, and spent the ride over to the airport giggling at memes that Doree and Loree were sending him. It had loosened some of the building tension in Sansa’s shoulders- Robin had always had trouble making friends, and the fact that he’d fallen in so easily with these two was a relief to her. They’d been talking about dying Loree’s hair at one point though, and Sansa was just glad that Robin had gotten on a plane in time to avoid getting in trouble for staining a purple ring around Ellaria’s bathtub.

She wondered what Winterfell would be like- trying to distract herself from the thoughts that kept creeping in the back of her mind. Arya had tried to explain the Starks’ home, but seemed frustrated when she couldn’t completely convey the scope the way she’d wanted, and when she had asked Ned, he’d gone into what was actually a very interesting- if complex- lecture on pre- and post-Targaryen era architecture that had left Sansa’s head spinning. Oberyn had been far more helpful when she had practically begged him for information several days previously.

“It’s big.” He had told her, after a moment of thought. “I don’t use that word lightly, Sansa. It’s a massive old castle, though the Starks live in the large manor built during- I believe- the regency era. Ned could probably talk your ear off about the subject if you asked.”

Sansa nodded.

“I tried asking him already.” She told him. Oberyn had chuckled, nodding.

“No great surprise there- Ned Stark has probably forgotten more about architecture than we’ll ever know.” He told Sansa. “The manor is a decent size, though- it’s very easy to find privacy there, and I’m sure you’ll be able to carve out your own space easily enough. It’s modernized, I know that- I think they overhauled the plumbing just last year, actually.” That, at least, had been a relief to her. “The grounds cover several miles worth of forest, grass, and gardens, and I think they own a smaller piece of property on one of the lakes- you would have to ask Catelyn which one.”

“It sounds lovely.” Sansa had said, trying to imagine it. It had been easy to find pictures of the old castle, but the house that Oberyn was describing was almost nowhere to be found when she had googled it. “I tried to google it, but there weren’t many pictures. The heritage website said that they opened up the castle at holidays but had next to nothing about a manor.”

“It’s actually quite difficult for the press to get out there as well,” Oberyn had told her, grinning, “There’s only one main road, and it’s well secured, and the manor is a good distance away from the old castle. There was an incident with a photographer from one of Westeros’s less reputable papers breaking into the grounds years ago- the Starks sued in court and won a massive settlement from the magazine. Financially, it ruined that gossip rag. The magazine folded, the press figured out that the financial reward of photos at the Stark family home wasn’t worth the fines and lawsuits they would face, and Ned and Cat had a camera system set up all across the grounds.” He made a sweeping gesture. “They have an alarm system that alerts them any time anyone enters the grounds, or gets within a mile of the manor- there’s a gate system as well. I think the castle is two or three miles away from the rest of the estate.”

 _That_ more than anything had managed to convey the size to Sansa. If being a mile away from the manor was close enough to send up an alert, then she didn’t want to think about how big the rest of it was. _That_ was intimidating enough.

She didn’t really want to think about the cameras. Oberyn had promised privacy in the manor, but she didn’t know how she felt about her every move being caught on camera anytime she set a toe out of the building- what if they had cameras _inside_ that Oberyn didn’t know about?

She’d have to ask Arya how the rest of them handled that particular issue. After meeting the girl, Sansa would have been _incredibly_ surprised if Arya didn’t know at least three ways in and out of Winterfell that bypassed those cameras.

* * *

Arya was currently distracting herself with Super Smash Brothers, but there was something nagging at the back of her mind. Being around Sansa alone- without her parents, that was- had been tricky, but they’d settled into an almost comfortable rhythm once they’d started texting. Sansa was actually pretty funny- in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of way. She had a very dry, sarcastic sense of humor that Bran and Jon in particular would probably appreciate.

She never would admit it- not even to Gendry- but with that thought, there was a small part of her that was afraid that Jon and Bran would like Sansa better than her. That her _family_ would like Sansa better.

It was that selfish, _awful_ part of her that she hated- the one that had always reared up when she would think about Sansa as a kid. Back when ‘Sansa’ was less of a person, and more of a concept to Arya.

It had been the idea of ‘Sansa’ that she’d internally raged about when her parents would grow quiet and somber during January- there were years when Sansa’s birthday had corresponded with one of Robb’s worse depressive episodes, and years when the chronic migraines her father had gotten came back with a vengeance on the 11th. The New Year’s holiday had always been miserable, no matter how her parents had tried to cheer it up.

She wondered what it would be like this year.

The concept of Sansa had been something Arya could blame when her parents wouldn’t let her spend time at a friend’s house without a background check- when she and Rhae got accosted at a store by press when the tenth anniversary had been approaching- when her mum had refused point-blank to let her go on a class trip to White Harbor. She had gotten into a huge argument with her mother about a prom dress her sophomore year of high school that had ended in screaming, tears, and several years of family therapy. Arya still vividly remembered the horrible things she’d yelled at her mother.

 _“Is it because I’m not Sansa?”_ she’d screamed. She didn’t even remember what had started the argument. She just remembered not feeling good enough- not feeling pretty enough, or enough like her mother to enjoy the trip. It had been like a pressure had been building since she was young, and it had picked that particular moment to explode. _“Because I’m not as pretty as Sansa would be, and I’m not some doll you can dress up like Sansa might have been?”_

There had been considerably more obscenities involved, though, and Arya had never seen her dad so angry at her when they finally returned home, both furious, with tear tracks on their faces. Even _Jon_ had told her she had gone too far.

Oddly enough, it had been Robb who smoothed the whole thing over. He was the one sibling who hadn’t seemed shocked at what Arya and their mum had yelled at each other, and was the only one who had stood up for her to her parents. He’d driven her to fencing practice when she and her mother hadn’t been able to even _look_ at each other, and they’d talked- _really_ talked- for the first time.

Sometimes, it had been easy to forget that Robb stood in the shadow of Sansa’s abduction more than any of them. He had _understood_ , though- understood the way she felt like she was being compared to the idea of Sansa- what Sansa _might_ have been- _could_ have been. Arya had spent years comparing herself to the idea of Sansa and, in her own mind, had always come up short. Robb had been quietly doing the same for even longer.

It had made her a lot more tolerant of her oldest brother’s mood swings- and his _constant_ check-ins by text. She tried to always get back to him as soon as she could, and in return, he’d slowly begun to do it less and less. She’d appreciated the effort, and she knew Bran and Rickon did too.

She wondered how he would handle meeting the real Sansa. It was still odd to her- to look across the seats on the plane to see _actual_ Sansa- who was just as pretty as she’d always pictured concept-Sansa to be, but far less high strung. She looked like their mother, but there was something solemn in her eyes that reminded her strongly of her dad. Their dad.

That was going to take some getting used to.

Arya hadn’t really thought about concept-Sansa in a while- it felt kind of strange that her mind had conjured her up now. Like going to put on an old pair of shoes you hadn’t worn in a while, and remembering how badly they pinched your toes. She didn’t want to reckon with that on her own.

She pulled out her phone and quickly tapped out a note to herself to text Eddara when they landed. She knew her therapist still lived local, but Arya hadn’t set up an initial summer appointment yet. She was distracted from the thought when Sansa moved to stretch in the seat across from her, taking out her earbuds.

“Sore?” Arya asked.

“I’ve never been on a flight for this long.” Sansa admitted, rolling her shoulder. “The ocean is so pretty though- I can’t take my eyes off it.”

One of the things about real Sansa that was so interesting to Arya was the way she was so difficult to read. There was no _way_ she wasn’t worried or stressed out about spending her entire summer in a country she didn’t even remember, but there was no sign of any of that stress on her face as she looked out the window. Not that Arya could see, anyways, but there would be time to learn Sansa’s expressions.

“You still good on names?” Arya asked her, indicating her head to the little notebook Sansa had sent her several pictures of. She knew Sansa had some sort of crazy chart to remember everyone- it must have been where all her anxiety was getting channeled.

“I think I’ve been studying harder to meet your family than I did for my history final.” Sansa admitted. “I’m considering just getting _everyone’s_ name wrong at first, just so they’ll focus on the improvement part more than the mistakes.”

Arya snorted. That was part of why concept-Sansa making an appearance again was so odd- she genuinely _liked_ the real Sansa.

“I’ll give you ten bucks if you call Jon ‘Rhaegar’ by ‘accident’.” She told Sansa, putting dramatic air quotes around ‘accident’. Sansa gave her a tired grin. “He’ll have a conniption trying to politely ask you never to call him his dad’s name again.”

“Are we talking eyes bulging, sputtering, the like?” Sansa asked.

“All the way.” Arya promised.

“I’ll consider it. Do they know I speak fluent Andali?” Sansa tapped her chin. “We could have some fun with that one…”

Arya winced.

“I think I mentioned it to Rhae when I talked to her.“ Sansa raised an amused eyebrow and Arya shrugged. “In my defense, she was the only one who actually _asked_. But if she knows, then everyone does”

“What about Northern Valyrian?” Sansa asked, sounding curious. “I know you speak it- but do the rest?”

“Bran took it as an elective for a while, but Mum’s actually pretty good at it.” Arya told her. “She actually took a class with me when I was in high school.” After their argument, it had been somewhere they could meet on even ground- Arya wanted to learn so that she could study water-dancing in the city where it was invented, and classes were just kind of their mum’s _thing_. “She likes classes a bunch- likes doing them as a ‘family activity’.”

“Those are some extreme air quotes.” Sansa noted.

“She gets really into them.” Arya shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she asks you to do one with her this summer- I think she said something about pottery on the phone a couple weeks ago.”

“That could be fun.” Sansa admitted, turning around to look back at her- _their_ \- parents, both of whom were quietly asleep. “I’ve never gotten to do things like that before.”

Arya perked up. It was one of the few comments she’d ever heard Sansa make about her life with Baelish, and much as she wanted to be sensitive, she was also curious as _hell_.

“Why not?” Arya asked, keeping her tone even.

“I was always too busy.” Sansa shrugged. “After Lysa died, there was a lot to do around the house, and to take care of Robin, and my- well-“ she flushed, something cracking on her placid face for the briefest moment. “-Um- Petyr, I mean, was always busy with work.”

Arya wondered what could have kept him too busy to take care of the children he seemed to have gone to great lengths to acquire.

“What did he- uh- what did he do?” she asked, watching Sansa carefully to see if it was an uncomfortable question. Sansa didn’t seem upset at all, though. “For work, I mean.”

“He owned a few restaurants around the city.” Sansa told her. “High end places, mostly- I would help him keep the books balanced.”

Arya frowned.

“I thought you worked at a coffee shop.”

“Oh- well, I wasn’t getting _paid_ to help him out.” Sansa chuckled, somewhat uncomfortably. “It was just- you know. I thought- well.” She cleared her throat. “I thought he was family- and it was just one of those things, you know? Giving family a hand.”

 _That’s for things like doing the dishes or cleaning a bathroom._ Arya thought. If she had done something like that for her dad, he would have given her some kind of salary at least- Egg had complained enough about having to go over accounting reports at his dad’s company that Arya knew they were tedious and difficult. It didn’t seem fair, but Sansa also looked kind of uncomfortable, so she tried to change the subject as best she could.

“Rick wants a summer job so he can afford to ask out the girl he likes.” She told Sansa, watching the small, amazed grin that spread over the girl’s face. Over her _sister’s_ face. “He thinks we don’t know about her, but Rhae and Egg have been following it like a freaking _soap opera,_ lemme tell you-“

* * *

When they began to descend, Sansa watched the white cliffs in awe as they flew over White Harbor. The ocean was a beautiful, brilliant emerald, and the pebble beaches were spotted with beachgoers enjoying the sunny morning. She wasn’t sure what it said about her, all things considered, that she thought the city she’d disappeared from was one of the prettiest she’d ever seen.

She paused before she stepped off the plane, loosening her long hair from its braid. Oberyn, Ned, and Catelyn had all warned her about possible press at the airport, and she wanted to mitigate the damage as much as possible. She hated wearing her hair down normally, and if the press was looking for a Sansa Stark with a curtain of long red hair, maybe they would miss her later if she had it all pinned up and out of her way. Besides, perhaps it would help to obscure her face a little.

The news had her student ID photo, but it was a couple years old, and Sansa’s hair had been down in it. Her face had been fuller, her eyebrows thinner, and while a part of her hated that _that_ was the photo they were showing (the vain part, that was), a bigger part of her was relieved that she looked even slightly different now. That there was even the _slightest_ chance she wouldn’t immediately be recognized.

They had been right- the runway itself was clear, but there was a crowd over by the chain link fence at the end of the runway. They were far away enough that Sansa couldn’t hear specifically what they were saying, but a few of them seemed to be yelling something. Sansa didn’t realize that she had frozen on the stairs until Robin came up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder.

“You okay, Sansi?” he asked, sleepily. Sansa had given him one of Ned’s hoodies to put on, and he had on sunglasses so he wouldn’t be identified in any of the press photos. He’d been swallowed immediately by both of them, his auburn hair completely covered by the gray fabric.

“Just distracted-“ She told him, continuing down towards the car, “-Sorry.”

She wondered if the photographers were going to try to follow them in the SUV as well. It had tinted windows that Sansa couldn’t see into, but it didn’t mean they wouldn’t _try_. King Robert’s mother had died in a car accident after evading press, Sansa suddenly remembered, her breathing suddenly unsteady. How had the press even _known_ when they would arrive? Why hadn’t she considered this _earlier?_

“Sansa?” Ned quietly asked. “Could you come help me with this?” She nodded, grateful for the distraction, quickly coming around to where Ned had just shut the trunk. Robin was already in the car, hidden from the photographers.

“What can I do?” She asked, smoothing out a skirt she wasn’t wearing with the resurgence of her nerves.

“If the press follow us, they won’t be able to get any pictures of you and Robin in the car-“ Ned told her softly, his face radiating concern, “The Bureau sent us a car with tinted windows to take back- and Jory’s going to drive. He’s trained in evasive driving if he needs to be, but the press won’t be able to follow us past the gates at Winterfell. Are- are you alright?”

Sansa was staring at him, open-mouthed, and Ned quickly rushed to explain.

“You looked worried and I didn’t know whether it was the press or-“

“No that’s- that’s really reassuring.” She told Ned, not even processing that she’d been rude enough to interrupt him. “Um- thanks for letting Robin borrow your jacket.”

“Of course.” Ned said, smiling gently. “Are you alright to hop in?” Sansa nodded, quickly scurrying over to jump in and shut the door to get away from the photographers.

She felt like a fish in a tank- and wondered if this was how it felt when children would tap on the glass. She tried to keep her breathing normal- to keep Robin from worrying- and wondered how Ned Stark of all people had been able to tell that she was upset.

* * *

Apparently, people were arriving to the Estate in waves, so there wouldn’t be too many people there for Sansa to meet initially. That, according to Catelyn, at least, who had told Sansa that she didn’t want to overwhelm her so many times by now, that Sansa was decidedly overwhelmed. Ned had taken his wife’s hand and squeezed it gently after the fifth time Catelyn had mentioned it.

“I’m sure Sansa will let us know if there’s anything we can do to make her feel more comfortable.” He said, the words rolling around with his thick, northern brogue. He had winked at Sansa, and she couldn’t help but give a small giggle in between the anxiety that was pressing against her chest. They were too kind- too nice- and Sansa just knew she was going to disappoint them at some point.

Winterfell was _enormous_ \- Sansa didn’t know enough about real estate to tell how many acres of land the Starks owned- in Braavos, they tended to measure real estate by the foot instead of the acre- but the grounds seemed to stretch on forever, spilling over into a forest to the left of the property. The castle itself was nothing that Sansa had been prepared for, and she couldn’t help her mouth falling open as they drove past the _massive_ stone structure. The manor itself came up a few minutes later, towering and light in color, and Sansa felt quite light-headed as she took in the scene, getting out of the car with Robin.

The man that met them in front of the house- in front of the _manor_ \- Sansa corrected herself, swept Arya into his arms first thing, swinging her around as she screamed bloody murder at him. But they were both laughing, and Arya gave him a casual punch in the shoulder when he set her down. He ruffled her hair, laughing, and she flipped him off when Catelyn looked away to get her bag. He gave a genuine smile, tired eyes turning upwards, at the rest of them as they piled out of the SUV. Sansa had never ridden in anything so big before- cars in Braavos were far more compact.

“Uncle Ned, Aunt Cat-“ he greets, hugging each of them in turn, and tolerantly receiving a giant kiss on the cheek from Catelyn, “We’re excited to see everyone- Bran and Rick are back in our house with mum and ama.”

Sansa tried to remember how he was related to them- a cousin, maybe? He had called Eddard and Catelyn ‘Uncle’ and ‘aunt’, after all. She knew ‘ama’- she’d heard Ellaria’s girls use the Dornish word for ‘mother’ often enough. A mother and another mother- this was either Jon or Aegon.

“Well, we’ll have to gather everyone in the kitchen for lunch.” Catelyn told him, beckoning Sansa and Robin forward. “We came home with a few extras.” She’s practically beaming, and Sansa feels a sharp pang of guilt run through her at her and Robin’s behavior, taking care to put an excited look on her face.

“Jon Targaryen.” He introduces himself, holding out a hand for her to shake. His smile is small, but she can see the wonder in his eyes, and he has a similar northern look to Ned and Arya- all dark hair and eyes. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Sansa desperately wishes that she had worn something nicer than leggings for the plane ride- she can’t be making much of a first impression. She remembered Jon from the family tree she’d drawn out in her sketchbook- he wasn’t related to the Starks, but his family were close friends with them, and they lived in a separate house at the Winterfell Estate. Arya had talked about him a bit. She scanned his face quickly as he shook her hand. His dark, curly hair was back in a messy bun, and she had always been a bit of a pushover for people with tortoiseshell glasses. If nothing else, he had good taste.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” She responded, feeling somewhat shy. She turned to Robin when she let go of Jon’s hand to cover her nervousness. “This is my brother, Robin.”

“Hey Robin.” Jon greeted, shaking his hand too. Robin didn’t completely meet his eyes, but he did give a half-smile, which was better than he gave most people. “It’s nice to meet you as well. Arya mentioned you’re a gamer?”

Robin nodded, actually looking at Jon’s face. Sansa swallowed a smile at that.

“You might get along well with Rickon- he’s always playing with his mates- but he needs a new challenge. He wins too much.” Jon’s lips quirked as Catelyn herded them towards the manor. “You think you can give him a run for his money? His head’s been too big lately.”

Robin actually _smiled_ \- a full smile- at Jon, and Sansa could have kissed the man right there.

“He’s got a good head for strategy.” Sansa praised, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure he can.”

“Thanks Sansi.” Robin flashed a smile at her, following when Catelyn beckoned him forward.

Sansa took a moment to look up at the manor. It was a massive structure on its own, even compared to the old castle they’d driven past. It looked more like a museum than a home.

“Don’t worry-“ Arya sidled up next to her, smirking, “-it’s less fancy than it looks.”

Sansa didn’t know how that could be possible. The large stone manor towered over them, with large diagonally paned windows that Sansa recognized as being around a hundred and fifty years old from the stained glass panels.

“It’s quite something, isn’t it?” Jon asked, from her side, and Sansa realized that she had been staring. Robin was already following the rest of them inside, glancing back at her nervously.

“It is.” She responded, embarrassed to have been caught. “Are those Jaehaerian windows? They look like they’re from the last regency era.”

“Good eye.” Jon nodded, approvingly, giving her another grin. “You should ask Uncle Ned that question though- he loves architecture, and _I_ only know about the windows because we used to get lectures about Winterfell’s architectural features at big holiday dinners all the time.”

“He told me a few things about the castle itself, but they’re difficult to remember.” Sansa admitted, leaning down to grab her big duffle bag. Jon had already hoisted it onto his back, though. “Oh- you don’t need to take that- I can-“

“Don’t worry about it.” He waved her off. “I was hoping it would save me from having to go lift at the gym today, but you pack light.”

Sansa fought a grimace, and from Jon’s face, didn’t entirely succeed.

“I didn’t want to bring much.” She gave a small, hopefully nonchalant, shrug. “Catelyn seemed excited about the idea of shopping here, anyways.” She mentally cringed. That had sounded far more materialistic than she intended, but there really wasn’t a good way to explain how wearing the clothing that Petyr had bought her felt strange now- uncomfortable in a way that sent an odd sort of crawling feeling up her back. Jon just nodded though, in understanding.

“She’ll be glad to have someone besides Rhae to go with.” He told Sansa, his grin still gently in place as they made their way up to the steps.

“Your- sister?” Sansa asked, trying to remember her chart. Jon chuckled.

“The very same. Did Arya brief you?”

“She’s been really helpful.” Sansa admitted, with a sheepish smile. “There are a lot of people it seems like I need to know.”

“Eh-“ Jon shrugged, “I wouldn’t worry too much about that. No one’s gonna be too fussed if you don’t know everybody on sight, although my brother will pretend to be horrifically offended if you forget his name. Just ignore him. He’s an ass.”

Sansa actually laughed at that, feeling herself relax a fraction.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She promised, looking around with wonder at the entrance hall. Marble floors- she had never in her wildest dreams imagined that. It felt warm, though. There were gauzy white curtains lining the floor to ceiling windows, and they fluttered gently in the summer breeze. There was a sturdy wooden shelf off to one side with a few pairs of shoes on it, and a huge main staircase that curved upwards, stairs coming down both sides of the room with wrought iron rails.

 _Maybe she would have to ask Ned about the manor_, she thought, dizzily contemplating the size. _At least for a map of it._ There was no way she would remember her way around.

“Arya, can you let everyone know we’re back?” Catelyn called over to her daughter, who nodded, dashing off towards the back of the house.

“There’s a renovated guest house a little ways back.” Ned told her, quietly, coming up to her side. “Jon’s parents, and siblings, live there. Bran and Rickon are likely over there right now, with Elia and Lya.” He looked down at her, and she was struck by how tall he was again. “Are you alright to meet everyone right now?” there was a kind, worry in his low voice, and Sansa felt an odd rush of affection for the man.

“Of course!” she managed to reply, giving him a small smile. “It should be nice to meet everyone I’ve heard so much about.”

“It’s alright if it’s too much though.” Ned murmured, making an aborted movement that Sansa suspected would have had his arm around her shoulders, but merely patted her awkwardly on the shoulder instead. “Just make sure you take it at your own pace.”

“I’ll be fine.” Sansa reassured him. “Thank you, though. You’re very kind to think of me.”

For some reason, her words seemed to give him a pained look, but Catelyn was gently nudging them both back towards a large kitchen, with copper pots hanging above one of the largest stoves that Sansa had ever seen.

“We’ll set you up with your room in just a bit- are you hungry?” she asked, bustling around and keeping herself busy. Sansa shook her head.

“I’m fine.” She answered, honestly. She was too nervous to eat. Catelyn frowned at her response, but immediately began haranguing Robin about lunch instead. Her brother had warmed up to Catelyn more quickly than the rest- Sansa wasn’t surprised, given her resemblance to his own mother. It was still a relief though to see him give Catelyn a shy smile as she set a sandwich and chips down in front of him- he’d been reticent towards everyone else for the most part.

The kitchen windows looked out onto a gorgeous stone patio and pool, and Sansa felt a small glimmer of excitement at that. She’d always wanted a pool of their own when she was a child, but knew better than to ask Petyr for something so extravagant. It hadn’t stopped being a dream of hers, though. Every child in Braavos learned how to swim at a young age, in case they got too close to one of the canals and fell, but everyone knew that you didn’t want to swim in them. The water would have made you horribly sick.

A door near the back opened, and Arya entered, chattering loudly to a woman who looked just like Jon, followed by a taller, willowy woman who shared enough of Oberyn’s features for Sansa to recognize her. She was pushing a wheelchair with a grinning teenager in it, followed by a boy about Robin’s age, complaining loudly about some soccer foul to Arya, who was patiently ignoring him.

The woman who must have been Jon’s mother saw Sansa first, and Sansa noted the shock and surprise that passed over the woman’s features, gray eyes widening, before they settled into a warm grin.

There were hugs and exclamations, and the whole thing was very loud and boisterous, and Sansa took Robin’s hand in her own and squeezed it to let him know she was still there. That he wasn’t the only one feeling out of place.

“You must be Sansa.” The woman who looked like Oberyn told her, holding out a hand to gently take Sansa’s. “Elia Martell. My brother and Ellaria have had lovely things to say about you.”

“He’s been very kind to me.” Sansa responded, honestly, giving the woman a small smile. She was beautiful- her amber eyes warm and welcoming, though there was a hint of Oberyn’s fire in them.

The gray-eyed woman grinned, taking Sansa’s hand after Elia.

“Don’t tell him that too often- he’ll grow a big head.” She japed. “Lyanna Snow. Call me Lyanna, Lya- whatever you want.”

“Thank you.” Sansa responded shyly, ducking her head down. This woman reminded her more of Oberyn, oddly enough, and his straightforward, frenetic energy- it was oddly reassuring. They introduced themselves to Robin, who nodded, smiling tightly at the introductions. Catelyn seemed to be unsuccessfully trying to corral the youngest boy, who was gleefully holding a phone out of Arya’s reach as she swore at him and smacked him in the stomach. Sansa couldn’t help but giggle at the scene.

“Rickon!” Catelyn snapped. “Give Arya back her phone, and come meet your sister- Bran, you too, for god’s sake!”

The redhead in the wheelchair snickered at this, but dutifully rolled over and held out a hand to Sansa, whose stomach had begun doing cartwheels at the word ‘sister’.

“Bran Stark.” He introduced, his tone shy and sweet. He had dimples with his smile, and Sansa couldn’t help but give him a smile of her own.

“Sansa.” She softly responded. “But I think you knew that already.”

“Really?” Bran asked, eyes mock-widening. “I hadn’t been informed yet. We’re terribly isolated up here- the news raven hasn’t arrived yet, so we’ve got nothing so far.” Sansa giggled, putting a hand over her mouth, and Bran looked pleased that he had made her laugh. He had a sweet personality, Sansa decided, a bit more gentle, where Arya had been blunt, if kind, at their first meeting. “Hopefully Arya hasn’t ruined your opinion of all of us-“ Bran continued, even as Arya loudly objected in the background, “-and hopefully Rickon won’t ruin it in the next fifteen seconds. We found him in the forest as a child- he was raised by wolves, and apparently his manners were too bad for even them.”

“Shut up.” The boy sulked, coming over to stand near Sansa. He was tall and gangly, and rubbed the back of his neck as he seemed to try to find his words. “Uh- it’s nice to meet you, Sansa.”

Sansa fell in love with him then and there, giving him a broad smile as he nervously fidgeted.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” She told him, meaning it.

“Idiot, you have to tell her who you are!” Arya hissed, reaching up to smack him in the back of the head. “Sorry, San.” She shook her head as she addressed Sansa, who was trying not to laugh. “This lunkhead is Rickon. Rick, this is Sansa, and her brother Robin, who’s gonna kick your ass at Mario Kart if Sansa’s to be believed.”

“You play?” Rickon asked, eagerly, taking notice of the boy sitting next to Sansa for the first time.

“A bit.” Robin shrugged, shoulders tight.

“Hell yeah!” Rickon punched his fist in the air. “You’ve gotta come check our setup out- we put in a whole new system for my birthday and it is _awesome-_ “

Robin looked to Sansa for confirmation, and she nodded with an encouraging smile.

“But do you have the newest Wii controllers?” Robin hesitantly asked, prompting an explosion of chatter from Rickon about the games as Robin followed him. Sansa breathed a sigh of relief as they seemed to go back and forth, arguing about the merits of some gaming system that Sansa didn’t know.

“He seems like a sweet boy.” Elia smiled, sitting down at the counter near Sansa. “If he’s a gamer, Rick will talk his ear off before the evening is over.”

“He loves playing those games with his friends.” Sansa admitted. “I’m glad they’re getting along so quickly- I was-“ she bit her tongue, not wanting to admit how worried she’d been about Robin adjusting to Winterfell. She didn’t want to seem rude after everyone here had put so much thought into their arrival. “It’s good he’ll have someone his age around.” She managed to say.

Catelyn seemed to exchange a concerned look with Lyanna, but they set to getting food prepared for everyone while Sansa chatted awkwardly with Ned and Elia at the counter. Arya was leaning against Bran’s chair, teasing him about something- a girl, Sansa suspected, trying to remember what Arya had told her about Bran’s girlfriend.

It wasn’t as bad as Sansa had worried- Elia was kind, and easy to talk to, and she didn’t press Sansa for anything- just asked her about her schoolwork and exams until Jon returned from dropping off everyone’s luggage.

“Hey ama- mum.” He greeted. Lyanna was considerably shorter than he was, and Sansa briefly wondered what Jon’s father looked like. Aside from his height, there was precious little of him in Jon, who was practically a mirror of Lyanna.

“Where’s Robin?” he asked, creasing his brows. “Did Rick run off with him?”

“They’re battling for the title of Mario Kart champion.” Bran told him, dryly, as Jon ruffled his hair. “My money’s on Robin- someone needs to take Rick down a peg.”

Jon shrugged.

“As long as they’re enjoying themselves, I guess.” He said. “Need any help, mum?”

“Yes-“ Lyanna told him, patting his arm absently and handing him a cup of tea. “Give this to Sansa, if you would, sweetie. Do you want anything else, kiddo?”

It took Sansa a moment to realize Lyanna was talking to her, and she blushed.

“I’m fine, thank you.” She responded, taking the tea from Jon gratefully as he sat next to her. “This is lovely.”

“Arya said you liked black tea, so I got some of the good stuff.” Lyanna grinned at her. “My boss wouldn’t be caught dead with tea- he drinks only the finest swill from the bottom of a coffee pot, but I have another co-worker who drinks nothing _but_ tea, and she clued me in to this brand. Lemme know if you’d prefer something different, though. I can always foist this off on her if you don’t like it.”

Sansa took a sip, and it was perfect- smooth and malty, and there was something calming about the heat of the cup in her hands, even though it was still warm outside. She suddenly felt herself pushing down tears at the kind gesture- Lyanna had never met her, but had learned her preferences and bothered to get something special, and Sansa wasn’t sure that anyone but Mya had ever done that before.

“Thank you.” She managed to get out, gulping down a mouthful to force herself to relax. “That’s- that’s really kind of you.”

“Eh, think nothing of it.” Lyanna waved her off. Sansa realized that Jon had noticed her moment, and blushed, quickly turning away from the look of concern on his face. “Ned, you want any?”

Sansa turned around to look at Ned Stark, who was nodding, and smiled as he accepted a chipped mug that read ‘world’s okayest dad’ on the side. The immediate contrast between the battered little dollar-store mug and the kitchen around them that could have come straight from a magazine fascinated Sansa.

“He drinks the stuff too.” Lya chuckled. “Was the only one in our college group who didn’t need six cups of coffee to get started in the morning.”

“You all went to school together?” Sansa asked, immediately interested. Arya hadn’t mentioned much about how Ned and Catelyn had met, and Sansa loved hearing stories like that.

“Oh, you’ll never get them to stop talking now.” Jon mock whispered from next to her, making Sansa laugh lightly.

“I dated a friend of Ned’s for a while.” Lyanna grimaced as she rummaged in the cupboard for another glass. “That’s how we met- Ned was dating Cat at the time, and she eventually warmed up to me.”

“Oh hush.” Catelyn tells her, but there’s a fond smile on her face, and Sansa sits back to listen. “We all went to school in White Harbor, Sansa. I met your- I met Ned in the library when he couldn’t figure out how the vending machine worked-“

* * *

“Want to see your room?” Arya asked her, after listening to old college stories for a good forty-five minutes. Sansa had even shared a few of her own stories about the shop, and about Mya, and Catelyn had clapped her hands and pronounced it an excellent idea when Ned quietly suggested that Mya come out and spend some time at Winterfell over the summer. Sansa’s grin had nearly split her face, it was so wide.

“Um- if you want to show me.” Sansa responded, somewhat off guard. Arya didn’t seem to mind, though. It was something Sansa was coming to very quickly appreciate about the girl who was her sister.

“Mum’s got it all set up and everything.” Arya shrugged. “Why not?”

“You can even use the elevator.” Bran grinned. Jon groaned.

“You didn’t even let me use your elevator when I sprained my ankle and was on crutches for a week!”

“I like Sansa better.” Bran shrugged, winking at her. Jon let his head fall on the counter, groaning for what Sansa suspected was dramatic effect. 

“Uh, sure then.” Sansa responded, giving him a weak smile. “Up we go, I guess.”

Arya grinned, dragging Jon off of his chair.

“You’re coming with us, jerk.” She told him, promptly jumping on his back when he got up. He rolled his eyes, but obligingly gave her a piggy-back ride over towards the elevator.

“You see what I put up with?” he turned to Sansa, his voice so long suffering that she actually laughed out loud. Bran’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he looked pleased, and Arya had a smug expression firmly plastered to her face.

“It’s a heavy burden you have to bear.” She told him, following Bran in as the door opened. Jon opened his mouth- most likely to agree with her- when Bran grinned, reaching out to slam the button that closed the elevator door.

“Race you up!” he called, grinning up at Sansa, who was a little shocked, but began to laugh when she heard Arya’s enthusiastic yell of “ONWARD!” as the elevator began to move. They barely beat Jon and Arya to the top, but Jon didn’t seem winded at all. Some of his hair had come loose, and he gave her a long-suffering look as he unceremoniously dumped Arya on a couch in the hallway with a muffled thump.

“Which room is it?” He asked Bran, ignoring Arya’s hissing as she straightened up.

“End of the hall.” Bran told him, rolling himself down as the rest of them followed.

“Mum had it painted it for you, but she’d be fine if you wanted to do a different color.” Arya shrugged.

Bran opened the door, and Sansa followed them in, gaping at the space around her. She should have expected it, from the size of the manor, but the room was _huge._ A large bed sat in the middle, with an off-white comforter and a few colorful throw pillows, and the walls were a pale, glowing peach color that Sansa instantly loved. The nightstand has a black and white bone inlay, and she almost gasped at how pretty it was.

“Like I said-“ Arya told her, looking around, “If you don’t like it, mum will be more than happy to help you change it. She loves that sort of thing.”

“It’s _gorgeous._ ” Sansa whispered, half afraid to step further in. She looked over to the wide windows, and saw the sturdy, wooden drafting table pushed up near them. “And that desk space-“

She trails off, wordless.

“Mum said you were artsy.” Bran said, looking half-embarrassed, “So it seemed like a good idea to bring sort of a drafting table in for you. I think she found one on ebay.”

“It’s perfect.” Sansa told him, eyes filling with tears. “I- thank you. This is- it’s so incredibly kind of all of you.”

Arya blushes at this, Jon looks sheepish, and Bran begins studying his shoes intently.

Sansa thinks of something, then.

“Do you-“ she pauses, as three sets of eyes fall on her, “Do you think that Ned and Catelyn would mind if I kept a lemon tree in here?”

Jon looks confused. Arya snorts.

“Rick has a pet snake, so mum will be thrilled you just want a plant. But yeah- they won’t mind at all.” Arya shrugs. “Honestly, dad would probably drag an extra couch up here if you wanted one in your room.”

“You have a lemon tree?” Jon asks her, a small smile flitting across his lips.

“I think so.” Sansa responded sheepishly, brushing a strand of hair back as she looked down. “The Forensics team took it when they looked over the house in Braavos, but Oberyn was going to try to get it back for me. It was a birthday present from my best friend.”

* * *

Jon didn’t know what to do with himself. He’d seen the half-blurry picture that Arya had sent, but he hadn’t been prepared for how pretty Sansa Stark was going to be. She had practically _glowed_ when he had met them at the airport, despite what Jon was sure had been an incredibly stressful two weeks.

And she was kind, too. He hadn’t known what to expect. Arya had said she was nice, but he had thought she was exaggerating. But no- Sansa really was that kind. Even despite the upheaval in her own life, she had taken the time to ask Bran about his book collection, and Rick about soccer, and him about school, and had seemed genuinely interested in the answers. He had watched her carefully watch Robin to make sure he was okay as they had arrived, and now she looked like she was about to cry over the room that Catelyn Stark had cobbled together for her.

 _Off limits._ He told himself, firmly. _She’s going through way too much for you to start acting like an asshole around her. Pull yourself together._

“The Forensics team took your tree?” Jon asked, raising his eyebrow. He wasn’t sure what the precedent for that was. “That seems odd. What would they want with it?”

“I don’t know.” Jon watched as Sansa bit her lip. “They took most of Petyr’s things, and just about everything from my desk, and they confiscated Robin’s computer.”

“What about the rest of your stuff?” Arya asked. “Is that why you barely brought any clothes?’

Sansa stiffened, almost imperceptibly.

“No, they left my clothes.” She answered, quietly. “I just- I couldn’t wear them anymore. He-“ Her voice shook a bit, ”Petyr bought most of them for me.” She told them, her tone slightly too bright to be real. “After I found out- it just- it felt too odd. Like wearing someone else’s skin.” She mumbled towards the end, shaking her head.

There was an awkward silence as they all processed that. It certainly helped explain why she’d brought so few things with her- why her bag had been so light, Jon realized.

“But like you said-“ she continued brightly, smiling at Jon, “Catelyn seemed excited at the idea of getting to go shopping.”

Jon didn’t know what to say, but managed a strained smile. He didn’t know how Sansa wasn’t a sobbing mess on the floor- Jon certainly would be. As they helped Sansa get settled in, giving her a guided tour of the manor, he watched her carefully, wondering what else was hidden behind her gentle expression.

* * *

Dinner wasn’t nearly as awkward as she had worried- it almost made it _easier_ , oddly enough, to have more people involved. Their dinners in Braavos had been made easier by the presence of Ellaria and Oberyn and their family, but there was far less focus _just_ on Sansa with three other Stark children involved. She’d been seated between Robin and Lyanna, the former of whom seemed to be warming up to Rickon, and the latter of whom seemed genuinely interested in hearing about the types of things Sansa would do in her classes.

“So you’ve been doing a project with Dr. Mordane?” she asked Sansa, stabbing a piece of chicken with her fork. “I liked that clip of her yelling at the paparazzi.” She grinned, wolfishly.

“She’s not the most patient professor I’ve ever met-“ Sansa admitted, flushing slightly, “but if you’re willing to put in extra work hours, she’s really good about helping when you need it. I was working on a collection of mostly structural pieces this semester, and it took a lot more hand-sewing than I expected- she was a great resource there.”

“What’s a structural piece?” Jon asked, setting his fork down and giving her a gentle grin. “Sounds interesting.”

“Well, structure in design is a pretty important component of any garment-“ Sansa easily slips into her lecture mode, “-but creating a structural piece of clothing involves considering different design elements carefully, creating an overall form rather than simply a garment. It-“ she struggled to find the right words, “-it becomes either an extension of the body, or a piece of sculpture that stands on its own when the garment disregards the body, I guess.” She looked up and realized that the entire table was listening to her speak, and blushed a deep red. “It’s sort of like creating a sculpture with the garment, but either giving the body agency or not- it gets really esoteric really quickly- sorry. I don’t mean to bore you all.”

“Esoteric?” she heard Rickon whisper, loudly. Bran smacked him.

“So if it’s sort of a sculpture- does that involve all sorts of different textures?” Bran asked her, tilting his head slightly. “It sounds really interesting.”

“It does!” Sansa told him, flashing him a smile. “Some of it was almost like doing origami with fabric.”

“Do you have any pictures we could see sometime?” Catelyn asked her, looking a little misty-eyed.

“I can ask Dr. Mordane to take a few-“ Sansa answered, shyly, “-I didn’t really have time to take any before we left.”

“We’d love to see them.” Ned told her, his eyes kind.

“Um, definitely.” Sansa answered, a little confused at all the attention. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The conversation quickly turned back to other topics, and Sansa watched as Ned and Rickon managed to draw Robin into a conversation about soccer teams in Westeros. He seemed to adapt well when someone gave him an opening, and she’d been watching him relax a little bit more every time someone spoke to him.

Sansa’s glance landed on Arya, who raised an eyebrow at her.

“Good?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” She told Arya. She turned to address Jon, eyes quickly flicking again to Arya, who was taking a sip of her water. “Rhaegar, could you pass the potatoes?”

It happens like a chain reaction after that. Jon’s eyes bulge as he lets out an undignified squawk, Arya immediately snorts, spraying water over half of the table, and Rickon jumps up when she hits him, lobbing his balled-up napkin straight at his sister. It misses, smacking Ned Stark in the forehead, and Sansa immediately freezes, something like panic welling up in her chest.

But Ned doesn’t get angry. He doesn’t raise his voice- simply picking up the balled-up napkin to examine it. He looks over at a frozen Rickon, and a sheepish Arya, raising an eyebrow.

“I thought we were hoping to send you to college on a sports scholarship.” He tells Rickon, his voice dry. “You’re going to need to practice your aim.”

It’s like a spell breaks, and the entire table laughs, Elia helping Rickon wipe down the table near him, Robin laughing at Rickon between glances at Sansa, and Arya teasing Jon for the noise he had made.

“-it was _not_ a squeak, Arya-“ he argues, clearly losing, as Arya’s laughing so hard that her laugh isn’t actually _audible_ anymore. Sansa simply smiles, feeling the unease in her subside only a little as Ned gently teases Rickon about his aim.

But Arya looks over, winking at Sansa, and she can feel herself relax a little more, a real grin spreading across her face.

“Sorry about that- did I get it wrong?” she innocently asks Jon, who still doesn’t seem to have caught on.

Arya tilts backwards, shaking with laughter, and falls straight out of her seat.

* * *

Sansa’s first night in Winterfell isn’t bad- it’s just strange. The summer feels different in Winterfell- the hot salty air replaced by a cooler, evergreen scent that Sansa had never realized was actually _real_ and not just something to go in seasonal candles. She manages to get outside for a few minutes at night- she’s gotten good at sneaking around- she has plenty of experience in trying not to wake up Petyr- and she already made a point to memorize where everyone’s rooms were so she could be quiet around them. Arya, Jon, and Bran had given her a grand tour earlier- Sansa had never seen so many bedrooms in her life.

The night sky seems wider than she’s ever realized- uncut by any sort of building or cityscape. The stars are brighter here- extending over her head in a spray that would make Sansa gasp if she wasn’t trying to stay quiet. She missed the Titan, though. Sansa had always been able to see the statue- the Titan of Braavos- from her bedroom window, and when she was younger, she’d liked to pretend he could hear her when she spoke.

It’s cooler during the day at Winterfell, but the nights back home are chillier than this- because of the wind coming in off the ocean- so Sansa stands outside easily in her bare feet, unconcerned by the cool air. There’s the chirping and calling of insects, and the rustle of trees, but it’s _quiet_ out here, in a way that Braavos never was. Sansa had never gone to sleep without city sounds in her ears- the boat horns, people talking, laughing, the occasional car, the railway line, the hiss of steam and the noise of life. There’s life here, too, but it’s a different kind- something that feels strange and alien to Sansa.

She shares a few more minutes with the strange sounds of the forest, wondering how many different types of insects she could hear. It was like they were singing- a soft little tune that’s as strange to her as the city would be to them. It’s that odd sort of quiet that makes it hardest for Sansa to fall asleep, but she does, eventually, and her bed is softer than she thinks even clouds would be.

* * *

When Sansa carefully makes her way downstairs the next morning, Catelyn is the only one there, sitting by the window with a cup of tea in her hands. She gives Sansa a soft, brilliant smile, and Sansa gently returns it.

Catelyn’s been far less strained- less like a harp string wound too tight to vibrate at anything but an uncomfortable pitch- since they got here. It’s only been a night, but the difference is astounding. Sansa thinks that if she lived in Winterfell- lived in this veritable fortress with miles and miles of land between them and the outside world- she’d feel more comfortable here too.

“Early bird?” Catelyn asks. Sansa nods. Petyr had called her that for a while- early bird, little bird- _caged bird_ \- she thinks, darkly. “You’ll be one of the only ones here.” She tells Sansa, taking a sip of her drink. Sansa gives her a small smile back. It’ll be nice, then, to have all of this time to wake up- to relax- in the morning. Sharing it with Catelyn is unexpected, but already, this Catelyn- ensconced in her home, surrounded by most of her children- is far easier to be around than the stressed-out, tightly drawn woman she’d met in Braavos.

That woman had reminded Sansa a little of Lysa- and she’d been more than a bit worried about that.

“Robin will sleep until noon if you let him.” Sansa tells her, half unsure of what to do. This isn’t her kitchen- she doesn’t know where anything is- but Catelyn sets her tea and book down and stands up.

“Rick will too.” She answers, conspiratorially. “I think teenagers all struggle with sleep at their age.” She gestures to the wide table, next to the picture window that Sansa had so admired yesterday. “Sit down! I’ll get something together for us for breakfast!” she says, cheerfully.

Sansa sits immediately, her mind processing the command, and then reddens a bit when she realizes what she’s done. Catelyn’s voice isn’t as shrill as Lysa’s, though, and Sansa makes a mental note to not to make that mistake again.

“Thank you.” She says, trying to hide her brief moment. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?” She’s somewhere between guest and resident, and doesn’t know what the protocol is here.

“Only if you really want to, dear.” Catelyn answers, bustling around and pulling things out. “Would you like any tea? I was going to put our kettle on again.”

“Yes please.” Sansa answers, coming up to stand awkwardly at the counter. She likes the feel of the cool stone floors on her feet- there’s something delightfully earthy about them, and it’s calming her a little. It’s easier, with just one of them, she thinks, a little guiltily. “I’d love to help- I cooked at home- well, I’ve cooked a lot before.” She amends, trying not to wince at her slip-up. Catelyn looks sad for a moment, but not strained.

“It’s okay if you want to call Braavos your home, sweetheart.” Catelyn tells her, gently, handing her the box of teas so Sansa can pick out a flavor. “You don’t have to worry about hurting our feelings- it _was_ your home for a long time. That doesn’t just change.”

Sansa nods, feeling a strange lump in the back of her throat.

“What do you normally make for breakfast?” she asks, unsure of what else to say. Catelyn seems to understand, smiling, and gestures widely.

“Just about anything.” She tells Sansa. “Really, it depends on what you like.”

Sansa likes smoked salmon on bagels for breakfast the most, but she doesn’t know that the Winterfell kitchens will carry that. They’re far more landlocked, here, and she doesn’t want to be an inconvenience.

“Really just about anything.” Sansa mirrors Catelyn’s words, shrugging somewhat sheepishly. “What were you going to make?”

They end up with omelets- Catelyn chuckles when she sees all the spices Sansa puts on hers.

“I didn’t realize Braavosi food was that spicy.” She tells Sansa. Something uncurls in Sansa’s stomach to hear Catelyn reference her time in Braavos without a strained look on her face.

“It’s not.” Sansa tells her, sheepishly. “It’s mostly just me.” Petyr had never wanted her to cook anything spicy, but Sansa always ordered the hottest dish on the menu when she got meals out with Mya.

“Well it’s good information to have.” Catelyn tells her. “There’s a new Meereneese restaurant downtown that Lya mentioned was good- we’ll have to order from there sometime if you’re a fan.”

“Robin is too.” Sansa says, as she scrapes her breakfast onto a plate. “He can be oddly picky, but he really likes hot food.”

“You two both sound like my uncle.” Catelyn chuckled. “The man never met a spice he didn’t like. I’m not so bold myself- I hated anything hot when I was younger.”

They sat down, eating in the quiet lull of the morning for a few minutes.

“I did want to ask you-“ Catelyn turned to her, face hopeful, “-was there anything you hoped to do here this summer? You’re more than welcome to just rest and relax, but if there’s anything that we can do, we’ll be glad to help.”

Sansa hoped like hell this wasn’t going to come back to bite her as she opened her mouth to speak.

“Arya mentioned you liked taking classes sometimes-“

“Yes!” Catelyn clapped her hands. “I have a list of summer ones I was looking into for a few of us- what do you like? There’s one on speaking Rhoynish, and there’s a knitting course that looked fun- I’ve never tried- and one of the local artists is doing a series of pottery workshops out of his studio- we could look over a few more this afternoon if you want- talk to Arya about some. It could be fun to make a girl’s day out of it- only if you’re alright with that, of course.”

“Well, I think Oberyn set up a therapy session for me today, actually.” Sansa flushes, still a bit embarrassed over the whole thing. She isn’t sure if Catelyn will be disappointed to learn that Sansa already knows how to knit, and she wasn’t sure if Catelyn had taken a single breath throughout that entire sentence. “So maybe we could look at the list later? Pottery sounds really fun, though- I’ve never tried it.”

Catelyn _beams_ at her.

“Of course!” she tells Sansa, sounding like Sansa’s just told her the greatest news in the world. “I should have remembered- he’s probably texted Ned and I as well-“ she glances down at her phone, nodding. “Do you want one of us to drive you to her office? We’d be glad to, but if you want to go on your own, I’m sure Rodrick would be happy to take you.”

“Rodrick?” Sansa asks, wondering if she’s forgotten to add a name on her chart of extended family. It’s the messiest page in her sketchbook- she’s started color-coding it.

“Oh- I’m sorry- he’s the head of our security team.” Catelyn tells her, as if this is a perfectly normal thing to have. As though every family has a security team. She’s met Jory, though, so Sansa supposes she shouldn’t be too surprised.

“Oh, whatever’s easiest, really.” She tells Catelyn, saved by the grumbling appearance of a bear-like Arya in the kitchen. Bran neatly rolls up next to her, looking wide-awake already.

“Morning Sansa!” he greets cheerfully. He gestures to Arya, and Sansa is briefly confused. “You like the specimen we’ve manage to find? It’s so life-like!”

He pokes Arya’s side a couple of times until she turns to glare at him, ruining the effect with a huge yawn. Sansa giggles, and Catelyn begins questioning them both about what they plan to do with their day, leaving Sansa to simply observe.

It was clear they loved each other- the affectionate, exasperated way Catelyn spoke with them was proof enough of that. Bran would make little sarcastic remarks, always turning slightly to look at Sansa as he did- she suspected he was trying to make her feel more comfortable, and she could feel herself relax, her mouth drawing itself into a small, gentle grin as she took a sip of her tea.

* * *

Sansa’s therapist is interesting. She hadn’t wanted to go to one, but it seemed to ease everyone’s mind, and she and Mya had actually gotten into an argument about it before Sansa left. Mya had _insisted_ that Sansa go, and after they’d raised their voices about it, she’d smacked Sansa with a pillow and told her to get over herself.

“It’s done wonders for mum.” Mya had told her, point blank. “Even with the chemo treatments and everything, I think it’s still her therapist that’s done her the most good. And I saw one too for a while.”

Sansa’s mouth dropped open.

“You never told me that!”

“It felt kind of embarrassing at the time.” Mya flushed. “But it helped, San. I was so worried about mum, and so stressed about school and everything, and my therapist basically like, gave me a toolbox to handle it.”

“A toolbox?” Sansa had raised an eyebrow, not bothering to keep her voice down. Oberyn was downstairs doing something on his computer, but everyone else had gone out.

“Like, your therapist can’t really automatically _fix_ whatever’s going on,” Mya explained, gesturing wildly, “But it’s like- learning to reframe what’s going on, and helping you figure out how to handle being overwhelmed. So, when shit happens, you have a way to deal with it.”

“I don’t-“

“You have a _lot_ of shit to deal with, San.” Mya interrupted her, giving her a look. “I would full name you, but I don’t even know what you want that to be.”

“Good question.” Sansa responded, snorting. “I don’t even want to think about it. If the Starks gave me a middle name, I sure as hell don’t know what it is.”

“Yet another thing you can talk about in therapy!” Mya exclaimed, giving Sansa an enthusiastic set of finger-guns. Sansa raised an eyebrow and Mya sighed.

“Look-“ she started, meeting Sansa’s eyes. There was electric determination there, and Sansa already had a feeling she wasn’t going to win this argument. “I’m not trying to be an insensitive jerk, but you’ve essentially gotten dumped into the middle of two giant missing persons cases, your face is on the news, everything you thought you knew was a lie, and the guy you thought was your father kidnapped you, and is now in prison.” She paused. “Did I get everything?”

“You only forgot the massive extended family.” Sansa pointed out.

“And that!” Mya exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “It’s really hard to think of a more stressful situation- and this therapist- and I bet the WBI’s going to give you the names of the best people in the entire country- is going to be someone who’s going to listen to whatever you want to say, and help you unravel this fucked-up tangled web that your life seems to be.”

“But I don’t _need_ it.” Sansa told her.

“Well maybe you’re not the one who needs it, but there are a lot of people who need you to do it.” Mya snapped. Her tone was cooler than usual. “There are a lot more people than you realize who care about what happens to you, San. Who fucking love you- who are fucking _worried_ about you.” Sansa realized with horror that Mya was actually trying very hard not to cry, and instantly felt horrible. She’d been so wrapped up in herself and Robin that she hadn’t even thought about how messy it must have been for her best friend. Mya had been cheerful through the entire thing, but Sansa wondered now how worried she must have been.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry-“ she kept repeating, throwing her arms around Mya’s neck and clinging to her friend, who was now trying not to cry into Sansa’s shoulder. “I didn’t realize- I didn’t think-“

“You’re not _supposed_ to be worrying about me, you goose.” Mya sniffled. “You’ve got other stuff to handle right now- but I’m gonna keep worrying about you if I know that you’re in another country, doing that thing where you pretend you don’t have feelings when things are literally imploding around you, and I don’t know that you have someone to help you cope with it.”

“You’re right-“ Sansa pulled back, guilt pooling in her stomach, “I didn’t think about it that way-“

“If you apologize for being selfish during the _one_ week where if anyone deserves a pass for it, it’s you, I will literally throw this pillow at you.” Mya sniffed. “Look, I know the Starks love you and are worried, but I wasn’t really talking about them. _I’m_ worried. Myranda is worried- she’s trying not to ask too many questions, but she keeps texting to ask if there’s anything she can do- Robin’s probably worried too.” She told Sansa. “Hell, my mother is _freaking_ out at this whole thing- she wanted to make lemon cakes for you, but she was too tired after her doctor’s appointment the other day.”

“Your mum is incredibly sweet to want to do that, but I hope she’s taking care of herself.” Sansa sniffled.

“And _that_ is what our high school English teacher would call dramatic irony.” Mya snorted. “That’s _exactly_ what I’ve been telling _you_ , you goose!”

They’d spent the rest of the night with a period romance about the Ninepenny wars and a giant container of ice cream, and Sansa had agreed to see the therapist for Mya’s sake.

They’d given her a list (she’d texted a picture of it to Mya who had simply responded with ‘TOLD U’) of therapists to look into, but Oberyn had given Sansa some recommendations. She decided on one woman after Oberyn had recommended her, simply because it meant she didn’t have to worry about going through the rest of the list. She would trust Oberyn’s word on it for now.

“She’s a delightfully caustic woman.” He’d grinned. “Married to a Lannister for two years when she was younger, and has told me on more than one occasion that she must have been out of her mind to tolerate him.”

“Is that- is that an endorsement?” Sansa had asked him, doubtfully.

“Oh, absolutely.” Oberyn nodded. “They’re a nasty bunch- I know you like seeing what the queen wears, but she and her family are a piece of work. Plus, Shae doesn’t beat around the bush at all- she’s a very compassionate woman, but she’s very upfront about things, and very no-bullshit. Honestly, I think you’ll be surprised when you meet her.”

Oberyn was right. Shae was almost a foot shorter than Sansa, but radiated a sort of authority about her. She had beautiful streaks of silver throughout her dark, curly hair, and intense dark eyes that met Sansa’s easily.

“You’re taller than I expected.” She greeted Sansa, firmly shaking her hand. “Come on in, and we can chat about how this whole thing works.”

Sansa had followed, into a comfortably disheveled room with the curtains drawn, a couch against one wall, and a squashed chair that had seen better days squeezed into the corner.

“It’s the most comfortable chair I’ve ever found.” Shae chuckled. “I promise you, it’s far better than it looks. Grab a seat wherever you want.”

Sansa chose the chair, rather than the couch, and realized that Shae had been telling the truth. It was _incredibly_ comfortable and cozy.

“Ever done therapy before?” Shae asked her, settling into a chair across from the squashed one. When Sansa shook her head, no, she grinned. “First timer- Excellent. Alright- so what questions do you have? I can tell you have them, but you have a tricky face to read.”

“Oberyn said this was all confidential.” Sansa said, hesitantly. “Are you going to talk to the Starks about this?”

“Nope.” Shae told her, shaking her head. “I’ve actually never met Eddard and Catelyn Stark- so I certainly won’t be sharing our conversations with them.” There was something very comforting about _that_ to Sansa. “And I won’t be documenting what we chat about for anyone else. Not the Starks, and certainly not those pesky agents at the Bureau.” She met Sansa’s eyes with an easy smile. “When you talk to them, that goes in a report that’s mostly classified, but when you chat with me, everything stays with me.”

“You don’t like the agents?” Sansa asked, carefully. If this woman didn’t like Oberyn, Sansa would have to be careful.

“I think there are quite a few of them that are more concerned with their case closure rate than how the people involved in the case are holding up.” Shae told her. There was honesty written all over her face. “Martell has a tendency to see people in his cases through, and has irritated the Bureau higher-ups more than once by prioritizing the people over the case, so he and I get along just fine.” She smirked, but her face grew more somber after. “I was glad he caught your case though- there were quite a few agents that wanted it, and I doubt any of them would know how to treat a-“ she flipped over a page in her notebook, checking something, “-twenty-year-old girl in a very difficult situation the way he would. The man certainly has enough daughters.”

“He and his family have been incredibly kind.” Sansa told her. This was good- Shae _liked_ Oberyn, and that went a long way for Sansa. “How- how does this work?” she asked, comforted by Shae’s honest answer to her question. “I mean, do I just start telling you everything that happens to me and you listen? Do you give me answers?”

“Well, it’s a bit of both.” Shae told her, drawing her knees up onto the chair. “I’m familiar with the details of the case, and if you’re comfortable with it, I can request the file from Agent Martell. But that tells me the circumstances of the case- not the circumstances of _you_.” She paused. “This is going to sound incredibly blunt, but you’re something new here. I specialize in working with trauma victims- of which I believe- based on the case details- you are.” Her small smile was less a comfort than the brutal honesty in her words. “But with most of my clients, I’m looking at- well, almost variations on a theme, if you’re a fan of classical music.”

“Sometimes.” Sansa shrugged.

“I’ve worked with a lot of people who have suffered in varying ways, and I’ve seen a lot.” Shae told her. “People can be wonderful, and they can be awful, and sometimes they can be both to someone, and that’s where things can get tricky. But I’ve never worked with someone in a situation as unique as yours, and so if you decide to work with me, we’ll be learning together.”

Sansa liked the sound of that- if a professional didn’t immediately know what to do, then it made her feel far less stupid.

“Work with me?” she asked.

“I’m not some sage old woman who sits on top of a mountain fasting and dispensing advice without any input.” Shae told her, a small smirk on her face. “Old, maybe, but the rest is bullshit. A big part of what you and I do- if you want to work with me, and I cannot emphasize enough that that is _entirely_ up to you- is going to involve honesty on both of our ends. I’m not here to tell you what to do, or give you orders about how to live your life.” She gestured with her hands an awful lot when she talked, Sansa noted. “Imagine that your life is a big ball of yarn with tangles in it, alright? We’re going to figure out where the tangles are as we go through it, and the more you’re willing to show me, the more I can help you find them. Now when we do find them, we’re going to do our best to untangle them without making the knots worse, and so we’ll look closely at them. Once we untangle something, we’ll figure out what tools you can use to help keep it untangled in the future, and what tools can help you untangle it again if the cause of the tangle repeats itself. The deeper we dive into this yarn ball, the bigger the knots are going to get, but it’ll be so much easier to work with the yarn if we take the time to address those knots.” Shae waved her hand. “It’s a simplified version, but that’s essentially what we’re doing.”

“It’s a good metaphor.” Sansa told her. It reminded her of what Mya had said, and that, more than anything else, helped her make her decision. “I like to knit sometimes, so it makes sense.”

“Good for you!” Shae grins. “I’m all butterfingers- could never manage to get it when I tried.”

“I think I’d like to try this with you.” Sansa eventually tells her, finding some comfort in sinking into the grizzled chair. “I think- I think I can do that. Work with you, if this is going to stay between us.”

“You know, there is an actual law that prohibits me from talking to anyone else about our sessions.” Shae told her, leaning forward to rest her arms on her knees. “I’m glad to send you a link to where you can check it out if you want, but if I ever told anyone anything you said-“ she began ticking items off her fingers, “I would lose my license to practice, lose my place on the Bureau list, be kicked out of the professional association I belong to, and with you, specifically, I would be staring down the end of a massive lawsuit that would bring me down _quick_.”

Sansa wondered how much power the Starks had, if lawsuits from them were _that_ much of a deterrent. She briefly remembered the magazine Oberyn had told her about.

“I would be essentially betraying the patients I’ve worked with before.” Shae continued. “That’s a bigger concern to me than anything else. I’ve made a career helping people, and I would never do anything to ruin their progress.”

Sansa nodded, mulling it all over.

“Okay.” She said, carefully. “Okay- then let’s try this.”

* * *

They hadn’t gotten around to much actual chatting this time- They’d mostly discussed scheduling and how they’d go forward, which Shae assured Sansa was normal. She wanted Sansa to come three times a week, which she’d assured was also normal, in cases like hers.

“If we want to eventually taper down our visits, we can absolutely do that.” Shae told her, face open and blunt. “But you’ve had your life uprooted pretty significantly, and I have the feeling it’s only going to feel more so that way as you begin to meet the rest of the Starks.”

She’d given Sansa homework, too.

“On Thursday, when we start, I’ll have read the file cover to cover, and have a better idea of the case circumstances.” She had told Sansa. “But when I see you then, I’d like to hear what _you_ think I should know about Sansa. Not necessarily even the case- just Sansa.” She’d grinned. “Just think about it for next time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so Jon has a cute lil hipster man bun and tortoiseshell glasses- criticize as you choose, but I will maintain that it’s a good look for most people. He’s a little bit of a dork, especially around Arya, and he’s gotten a lot more sleep than when we saw him last. I hope you enjoyed their initial meeting- we’re moving very slowly on the relationship front, because there is a lot going on for everyone.
> 
> One thing I do want to emphasize here, guys- to an extent, I’m trying to write this as a realistic reaction to an incredibly unrealistic situation. Sansa is not going to be able to immediately condemn Baelish- but she has more context for the unease that she’s been feeling with him lately. Their relationship is a lot more complex than we’ve gotten to see so far, mostly because our primary source on Petyr Baelish has been Sansa- who- I will remind you- has next to no context for what a stable family relationship looks like. Baelish was her normal, but that doesn’t mean that it was a normal situation in the slightest- we’ve been getting glimpses into that, and you’ll see more as we unravel that. Stuff like that just doesn’t all come out at once, and this story is shaping up to be looooong. 
> 
> I actually really enjoyed writing this chapter- especially with how grim a lot of the last one was (everyone was sleep deprived, stressed, and overwhelmed, and if nothing else, everyone’s slept a bit more here). Things have escalated with the press, and with Baelish, but a lot of it is kind of a breather, despite all of that. Ned and Cat are back on their home turf, and they’ve made Winterfell into a fortress where they feel safe, and that impacts how they interact with Sansa. Rickon’s doing his best to try and make Robin feel welcome (you get the feeling someone talked to him about it beforehand- your guess is as good as mine, but my money would be on Rhae or Jon, the meddlers extraordinaire), and Bran is alleviating his anxiety via sarcasm and being as goofy as he can. Everyone’s trying to be as welcoming as possible, and everyone’s kind of shoving their feelings down so that Sansa can feel comfortable.
> 
> I felt like it was really important that we get to hear from Arya here- she’s dealing with a lot, too, and we haven’t spent too much time with her the last two chapters. All her life, Sansa’s been an idea, and nothing else, and now she’s real, and it’s reminding her of how she felt about the idea of Sansa. While Arya likes the real sansa, it’s still a lot to reconcile, and she’s being preemptive about therapy (five for you Arya). Trust me, guys, the Starks are no stranger to the concept of therapy, and there will be LOTS. (I’m also going to head this off right here- Shae is NOT working with the Lannisters. She’s a lovely person and a respected trauma therapist, and she doesn’t have any ulterior motives in working with Sansa).
> 
> The thing I love about chapters like this is that we get to see a lot of little details about the characters that I couldn’t work in before, because this story is a monster. So we learn that Catelyn likes to take classes and learn new things, and that Ned is an architecture enthusiast, and we get to talk about the language difference between Braavos and North Westeros a bit. There’s a lot of detail crammed into this chapter- we’re building on past details and adding on, and there are a few small things that we’ve learned in this chapter and the few before it that are going to be important in the future. 
> 
> My favorite scene in this chapter is tied between Sansa’s emotional conversation with Mya, and Sansa’s quiet moment outside at Winterfell at night. One is volatile and messy and painfully true, and the other is a rare, peaceful moment for Sansa amidst all of this chaos. My favorite small detail is Ned’s ‘world’s okayest dad’ mug (it was a gag gift from Arya and Rickon, who found it at a thrift store, but he adores it). 
> 
> Next chapter, we’ll see more adjustments to Winterfell- including a security detail for Sansa herself that I’m really excited about- and we’ll get to see how Ned and Cat are doing with everything. I know I promised Robb in this chapter, but it was like, 23 pages long, and while you guys claim to love the long chapters, I get the feeling people are going to stop reading if I go over 30. Robb’s a pretty major part of this story- he’s gonna get some serious screen time coming up. There’s going to be more therapy, and not just for Sansa. Stay tuned! 
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who's taken the time to leave me a comment, a review, a kudos, a bookmark- you guys are all awesome, and I adore every last one of you. :)
> 
> Come say hi to me on tumblr sometime if you're so inclined! I'm @mkstrigidae :)


	12. Little Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adjusting to Winterfell is a strange feeling for Sansa- she's worried about Robin, she misses Mya like she'd miss a limb, and she's more than a little nervous to meet Robb Stark. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Robb Stark is about to meet the sister whose ghost has haunted him for his entire adult life, and he's kind of a nervous wreck about it.

“I often don't say things out loud, even when I should. I contain and compartmentalize to a disturbing degree: In my belly-basement are hundreds of bottles of rage, despair, fear, but you'd never guess from looking at me.” 

― **Gillian Flynn,** **Gone Girl**

* * *

The stars had been clear earlier that night, but they were slowly being blotted out by a shadow seeping into the room. As he watched in horror, it grew, and he shrank back- throwing a blanket over himself as the shadow roared. There was a flash of light, a loud click, and Robb Stark found himself bolting upright in his bed, his breaths coming quickly and heavily.

“Shit.” He swore, pushing sweat soaked curls off of his forehead. It had been _years_ since that dream, and it was back _now_ of all times?

“Robb?” Talisa murmured, sleepily, lifting her head from her pillow to look up at him through bleary eyes. “You alright, Honey?”

“Bad dream.” He managed to gasp, heart still positively _racing._ “It’s just stress, Tal.”

His girlfriend (not for long now, though- he’d bought a ring two months prior, and it sat, hidden in one of his drawers) gave him a long look, and then got out of bed, shrugging on a bathrobe as she headed out of their bedroom into the kitchen

“Stress or not, a bit of tea won’t hurt.” She told him, returning with two steaming mugs of chamomile. “Which dream was it?”

“Not one we’ve talked about.” Robb managed to shake his head, feeling mildly ill. “An older one.”

Talisa was quiet for a moment, wrapping her arms around his chest and shoulders, resting her chin on his shoulder. Robb gratefully leaned his head against hers, taking one of her hands in his own and squeezing it once. She let him sit and breathe for a few moments, and he gradually began to align his breaths with hers, letting them grow deeper until he could feel his muscles relaxing and gradually unclenching.

“I think I’m just worried about seeing Sansa.” He murmured, when he could get the words out without shaking. Jon thought he was a disaster, Robb knew. He wasn’t sure he disagreed, although Tal was more than a little irritated with Jon at the moment, so he didn’t want to bring him up

“I wish I could fix this for you.” She murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck. Robb could already feel himself relaxing as he melted into her, and smiled down softly at her.

“I think that, for now, I’m just glad that you’re here.” 

“Just try getting rid of me.”

“I need you too much for that.” Robb chuckled. Tal hummed in agreement.

“And don’t you forget it.”

* * *

Sansa’s eyes snapped open, and she couldn’t move. There was a feeling of panic running across her skin, and she couldn’t pinpoint why until bits and pieces of the dream she’d been having began to drift back. It had been Robin- something had happened and someone had taken Robin, but she didn’t know how.

The pieces were drifting away as quickly as she tried to catch them, and Sansa felt her limbs slowly begin to give way as she sat up, shaking slightly as she swung her legs over the edge of the enormous bed the Starks had given her. Slowly, she tiptoed out of the room, silent as she could be.

Robin’s door squeaked slightly and Sansa froze, eyes darting around her, but no one appeared out in the hallway to chastise her for being awake. The floorboards groaned slightly and Sansa bit her lip to keep from swearing. This house was so _loud._

She supposed she should have expected it from a building this old, but it was still odd. Their house in Braavos had been older, but Petyr had redone the interior completely, replacing the original Braavosi tile on the floors with a dark hardwood that Sansa could easily avoid making noise with, if she stepped carefully around a few spots.

Robin was snoring softly, one hand flung up above his pillow and one flopped to the side and Sansa surpressed a relieved smile. Her little brother had always slept like a starfish, arms and legs clumsy and everywhere, and it had been very endearing right up until Sansa had had to share a bed with her kid brother on a trip once and gotten a foot to the stomach for her trouble.

But he was there, and she could breathe a little easier for it. His father- Jon Arryn- after initially intending to fly straight to Braavos, had decided to give Robin a few days to acclimate to Winterfell. They'd had a few skype sessions, though, with Sansa present at each one. Sansa would admit that she thought pretty highly of the man for being willing to wait and go at Robin’s pace. It was a good sign, although a small part of her worried that he would want to hear about Lysa- and Sansa wasn't quite ready to talk about that. 

It was early still- the clock next to her bed read 4:47am, but Sansa knew she wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep- not just yet. She’d found a door on the top floor that led out onto a flat section of roof that she didn’t think anyone spent much time on- there were only a couple of dusty wicker chairs out there. If she was quiet, she could probably take her sketchbook and work on the collection she’d started talking to Dr. Mordane about before everything had happened and she’d had to leave Braavos.

They’d been emailing back and forth about it a bit- Dr. Mordane had been more than willing to harass a few others in the department to send Sansa the material she missed as well. She’d been wonderful about not asking Sansa for more than she wanted to share; while, at the same time, letting Sansa know that she was there for whatever she needed.

It was something of a heady feeling, realizing that the woman she respected so much thought highly enough of her to put her own neck on the line for Sansa. Dr. Mordane had worked for several prominent labels before taking a position at BCU, and she’d told Sansa stories about her time working for a Lyseni fashion house in such lurid detail that Sansa had been in _awe_. She also hadn’t been able to look at her professor without blushing for a solid month, but still. She was something of a legend, and Sansa really didn’t want to disappoint her, so she grabbed her sketchbook and her swatches, heading up to hopefully pass a productive couple of hours.

* * *

It was too early for his legs to be this sore, and Jon needed some time to himself to sort out his thoughts before Robb flew in this afternoon, and so he had decided to hide in his usual spot. He climbed up to the roof, coffee in hand, and blinked when he opened the door to find one of the chairs already occupied.

“Hey.” Jon greeted, surprised to find Sansa here. “Uh- everything alright?”

“Hm?” Sansa answered absently, looking up, a piece of her bright hair escaping the tight braid she’d tied it back in. “Oh, yes- thank you.”

“It’s just- you’re on the roof.” Jon felt the need to point out. Sansa gave him a small, amused smile.

“Well you are, too.”

“I- okay, you’ve got me there.” Jon sighed, chuckling. “Rickon’s driving me mad with his energy levels- Robb and I used to come hang out up here to avoid everyone in high school. Mind if I sit?”

“Go ahead!” Sansa gestured, her face slightly embarrassed. “Robin’s still asleep, so I wanted to get some work in before he got up. I didn’t mean to steal your spot-“

“You haven’t.” Jon promised, slightly amused at how apologetic she looked.

“Still, if you want me to leave you alone, let me know. Is Rickon awake?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, he’s doing drills on the other side of the lawn.” Jon told her, yawning. “He woke me up to help him, but my shins are too sore to keep helping him. And no, you really don’t need to go anywhere. You’re much more relaxing company than the rest of them.” He stretched out a bit, settling in as Sansa laughed softly at his remark. “You listening to anything good?” he asked, gesturing at her headphones.

Sansa immediately looked embarrassed, and Jon tried to backtrack.

“I mean- it’s none of my business-“

“It’s fine-“ Sansa sighed, lifting up her phone to show him with a sheepish smile, “-just a bit- um, embarrassing.”

“City sounds?” he asked, eyebrows rising.

“It’s kind of hard to focus when it’s this quiet.” Sansa told him, pulling her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, closing her sketchbook and putting it aside before Jon could see anything.

“I get that.” Jon nodded. “The first night back here, it’s always harder for me to sleep. Oldtown is _loud_.”

Sansa shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“I’ve just never lived outside of the city.” She muttered. “Er- I mean- that I can remember, that is!” she tacked on quickly, her face flushing again. “It’s just very different. There are little things I miss that I didn’t really realize I would miss.”

“Like what?” Jon asked, genuinely curious.

Sansa was warm and kind and seemed to be handling this entire situation with an incredible amount of poise and grace, but even when you had a one on one conversation with her, she wasn’t terribly forthcoming. It was a unique talent, Jon thought, being able to steer a conversation away from yourself so neatly.

He understood why she might be doing that- they were all still virtual strangers, but it was driving a small part of him crazy. Teachers that liked him had praised his curiosity as a child, and those that hadn’t had called him a nosy little thing, and he was currently fighting a losing battle with his curiosity.

So maybe he was more than a bit nosy, but he also genuinely wanted to get to know Sansa better. She seemed witty and smart, and apparently had a good sense of humor. He’d just yesterday gotten Arya to admit that (as Jon had suspected), she had put Sansa up to calling him Rhaegar.

“I didn’t think she’d actually do it!” Arya had shrieked, laughing as he had thrown her over his shoulder, threatening to throw her into the pool if she didn’t answer. She had smirked at Jon, and he had tossed her in anyways, watching her sputter, and yelping as someone else pushed him in from behind. “Thanks bro!” Arya laughed, quickly swimming out of the way as Rickon saluted, doing a running start into a cannonball that left Catelyn raising an eyebrow from the patio.

“You’re a horrible influence.” He’d told her, splashing her. Sansa was out looking at the gardens with Bran, so they could talk without worrying that she'd overhear. Arya shrugged.

“Don’t get your nose out of joint just because Sansa’s a better sport than you.” She smirked. “She’s really funny- you have to pay attention though. Very snarky. She and Uncle Benjen will get along well.”

He wanted to figure her out, mostly- but he didn’t want to be an asshole about it.

“Um-“ Sansa brushed a strand of hair behind her face. “You know- Like my favorite place to eat, or the view. Does that happen to you with Oldtown? Or is this the home that you miss?”

Jon held in a sigh. There it was again- the deflection.

“I think it happens with both of them, depending on the time.” He admitted, crossing his legs and leaning back on his palms as he resigned himself to answering Sansa’s questions.

One step at a time, he supposed. Her being comfortable enough to spend time alone with him was no small thing, and he wasn’t about to be a jerk because she didn’t want to talk about her life. 

* * *

“Hey little bro- how you holding up?”

Robb could practically _hear_ Rhaenys’ grin through the phone as he took a sip of his beer.

“Ugh- did Tal put you up to this? You and my girlfriend need to stop hanging out.”

“You should have picked a more boring girl if you didn’t want me to like her.” Rhaenys chuckled. “Seriously, though- how are you? Your flight leaves in what- six hours? Are you at the airport yet?”

“You know, the only way you could have picked a more perfect career is if you just decided to become a spy and work for the WIA.” Robb muttered. “Anything that lets you be nosy for a living would have worked.”

“Don’t think I haven’t ruled it out.” She laughed. “So- have you made it to the airport yet?”

“Six hours, Rhae.” Robb muttered. “It doesn’t take six hours to get to the airport- even from Highgarden.”

“Never hurts to be prepared.”

“I’m still packing.” Robb told her, running a nervous hand through his hair. “I mean, what the fuck do you wear to meet the sister who was kidnapped and somehow miraculously made it back?”

“Jon says she’s really into fashion, so you two will at least have that to talk about.” Rhae smirked. “Relax- you’re easily the best dressed out of all of us.”

“I thought that was Egg.” Robb muttered, frantically tossing socks out of his drawer.

“Better than Rick, Arya, and Jon, then.” Rhaenys amended. “My brother desperately needs to branch out from skinny jeans and flannel.”

“Shit- I threw a flannel shirt in my bag.” Robb sowre, digging through the suitcase to find the offending item. “You think that would look bad?”

“I think that _you_ buy flannel shirts from decent stores, and Jon fishes them out of thrift store dumpsters.” Rhae told him. “Everything he owns has holes in it- I think it’s just because it drives dad crazy. But more importantly-“ her tone softened, “You’re really worried, aren’t you?”

“Of course I’m fucking worried!” Robb snapped, running an agitated hand through his hair again. “I have to make a good impression! What the hell am I going to do if she decides I’m not worth her time?”

Rhae inhaled sharply on the end of the line, and Robb squeezed his eyes shut, immediately regretting his outburst.

“I don’t think Sansa is going to blame any of us for what happened.” She told Robb, softly, and _god_ didn’t he wish she was a little less perceptive. “Not me, not Jon, not Egg, and definitely not you.”

 _But it’s my fault._ The voice in his mind supplied. _I should have-_

Rhaenys’ stern voice interrupted the dark turn his thoughts were taking.

“I know what you’re thinking, Robb, and you don’t get to go there. Not today.” She told him, in a tone that rivaled his mother’s lectures. “I know this is hard for you, but-“

“Do you really, Rhae?” Robb muttered, rubbing at his temples. He wanted another beer, but he had to leave in a few hours, and he might be a disaster of a person, but he had never driven after he drank. “Because I don’t think that even _I_ realized how hard it is, sometimes. I couldn’t even _eat_ this morning, I was so nervous.”

“Is Tal coming back before you leave?” Rhae asked, quietly.

“Yeah.” Robb sighed. “She’ll be here in like, fifteen minutes.”

“Good.” Rhaenys murmured, lapsing into silence.

“I’m not about to lose it.” Robb muttered, annoyed at the presumption.

“I didn’t think you were.” Rhae told him. “I’m just- look- you have your way of dealing with nerves. I deal with mine by being an enormous busybody.”

“And making a career out of it?”

“Of course.” He could hear the teasing note in her voice. “Just, Robb?”

“Yeah?” he asked, eyeing the array of shirts he’d thrown across their bed.

“You ever stop to think that Sansa might be just as nervous as you about all the same things?”

Robb deflated.

“Yeah, Rhae.” He muttered. “I know. Somehow, that makes it worse, because that’s another thing I have to worry about.” He heard the key turn in the lock, and heard Talisa’s footsteps as she came in. “I’ve got to run, though- Tal’s home.”

“Alright- tell her I said hi. Love you, dummy.”

“Love you too, you nosy jerk.” Robb told her, absently hanging up the phone. “Hey.”

“Did you empty our entire closet onto the bed?” Talisa asked, incredulously, as she shrugged off her raincoat.

“I couldn’t decide what to wear.” Robb rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly.

“The blue button-down and your- hm- those pewter colored wire-rimmed glasses, maybe?” Talisa suggested, grabbing a clean set of clothes to change into instead of her hospital scrubs. “Or the thick-framed amber colored ones- those bring out your cute freckles.” She grinned at him, tugging on an Oldtown Law sweatshirt as she hopped out of her shoes.

“You think they’re cute?” Robb asked, a sly grin spreading across his face.

“I wouldn’t live with you if I didn’t.” Talisa smirked, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Blue button-down, the amber glasses, and your favorite jeans. You want to be comfortable when you meet her. don’t wear the birkenstocks, though. You’ll look like a nerd.”

“But a comfortable nerd.” Robb pointed out, a real smile settling on his face.

“What’s with the fashion show?” Tal asked, gesturing. “Did Aegon wind you up about it again?”

“No- that was Rhae.” Robb sighed. “Aegon’s a little busy trying to get everything squared away so that Rhaegar won’t bother him when he comes up North.”

“Was she giving you a hard time?”

“ _I’m_ giving me a hard time.” Robb admitted. “Rhae’s just really good at picking up on it.”

“You can only do what you can do.” Tal told him, wrapping her arms around his middle and laying her head on his chest. “You’ve built a life for eighteen years without Sansa- and you’ve done really well. But it was a process, honey.” She looked up at him, rings under her eyes, and Robb felt a stab of guilt for making her worry when she’d just finished up a grueling night shift. “You spent eighteen years building what you have- you’re not going to have everything with Sansa be perfect right away, but it doesn’t have to be. All you have to do is show up. There’s no wrong answer.”

“It doesn’t really feel like there’s a right answer, either, though.” Robb muttered, before he could stop himself. Talisa just raised an eyebrow though.

“Maybe not.” She shrugged. “But when is there ever? You’re going to go, you’re going to meet her, and what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“She hates me?” Robb answered, incredulously. “She doesn’t want anything to do with me- with any of us? She blames me? I don’t know!”

“And all of those end with Sansa not being in your life, right?”

“This is not a very reassuring pep talk, babe.”

“Hush.” Talisa grinned. “You know this one. Look- literally the worst thing that could happen is that Sansa doesn’t want to be involved in your life. But she’s not involved right now- not yet, at least. You have _nothing_ to lose, and literally _everything_ to gain by going and meeting her.”

“Yeah.” Robb sighed. “Yeah. You’re much better at this than Rhae.”

“I give a lot more pep talks at my job than she does at hers.” His girlfriend laughed. “I had to coax a forty-year-old man onto a gurney today- he was terrified of the anesthesia needle.”

“Yikes.” Robb mock winced. “And then you have to come home and listen to me complain about getting a new family member. Sorry, babe.”

Talisa didn’t laugh- just gave him a very serious look.

“You know, you really don’t give yourself enough credit, considering everything you’ve gone through.” She told him, gently. “This isn’t nothing, Robb. You can’t compare your situation to everyone else’s. It takes a lot of courage to go under the knife like that, and it takes a lot of courage to face the sister whose ghost has haunted you for your whole life. Give yourself a break, honey- please.”

“Okay.” Robb whispered, drawing her in close, pressing his face into her hair as she stroked his back while he tried to hide the way he shook. “Okay babe- I’ll try.”

* * *

“I don’t know.” Sansa murmured, quietly, perched on a fallen tree trunk. “Everyone’s been so kind so far.” The Wolfswood was still something of a novelty to her- the trees were larger than she could have imagined- and there was something peaceful to her about the gentle sound the wind made through their leaves.

It was also free of anyone who might overhear a private conversation with her best friend. Jon was sweet, but she’d rather not have an audience while she caught up with Mya.

“Well that’s a good thing, right?” Mya’s voice sounded slightly strained, and Sansa knew her best friend was worried about her. “That they’re trying to make you comfortable.”

Sansa was silent for a moment.

“Yeah.” She answered, sighing. She had a therapy appointment the next morning, and Robb Stark was flying in later in the afternoon, but the morning was all hers, and she’d needed space from everyone’s kind gestures and the amazed looks on their faces every time they saw her. “It is- it really is, Mya. I’m just- I guess I-“

She broke off, frustrated that she couldn’t put the feeling into words.

“It’s overwhelming?” Mya gently suggested.

“Yeah.” Sansa nodded, biting her lip. “That sounds about right.”

“Well I’m not trying to be that asshole here, San, but fucking _yeah._ ” Mya snorted.

Sansa actually felt a laugh bubble up in her chest at that.

“I miss you.” She confessed to Mya, a small smile tugging on her lips. “Like, a lot.”

“You have like, sixteen new siblings.” Mya snorted from the other end of the phone. “Don’t you have all the company you need?”

Sansa giggled, a wave of relief crashing over her at the reassuringly familiar sarcastic tones of her best friend.

“None of them are you, dummy.” She teased Mya, who laughed on the other line. “I told the Starks about you, though, and Ned and Catelyn told me that we could fly you out here for a while this summer.”

“They did?” Mya asked, something soft and vulnerable in her voice.

“Well yeah.” Sansa told her, raising her brows. “I may have like, eight thousand new family members, but you and Robin are still the most important people in my life. That’s not going to change. And they’re going to love you- Arya already thinks you’re fantastic.”

“You should hardly be the one reassuring _me_ here.” Mya snorted, her tone notably warm nevertheless. “But… thanks, San.” Sansa heard her inhale deeply on the other end. “Speaking of which- how is Robin doing?”

Sansa smiled gently.

“He’s adjusting better than I thought.” She admitted. “He’s still asleep now, but he’s been skyping with Oberyn’s kids a lot, and I think Doree and Loree have been really good for him. Rickon’s about his age too, and has been really welcoming and wonderful- He’s crazy about video games like sweetrobin is- there’s a whole room here for their gaming stuff.”

“Oh god, there’s two of them.” Mya groaned, drawing a snort from Sansa.

“You’re still just mad because you can’t beat Robin in Mario Kart.”

“He cheats!” Mya exclaimed, and Sansa could practically _see_ her throwing her hands up. “He threw a blanket over my head the last time I played him and drove me off a cliff!”

It made Sansa let out a loud, barking laugh. Mya had sworn a blue streak, and they’d had to bribe Robin with baked goods to keep him from repeating what he’d heard her say. It hadn’t been much of a problem though- Robin _adored_ Mya.

“It’s the quiet ones you never suspect.” Sansa chuckled. “I heard him telling Rickon that you were going to teach him how to rock climb.”

“He asked me a while ago.” Mya shrugged. “I think you were there? I was going to try and get him into the gym this summer-“

“Are you working there full time now?”

“Just part- research with Dr. B takes up the rest.” Mya admitted. “But it’ll help get me into grad school, so it’s worth it to spend my weekdays wading through the marshes.”

Sansa snorted.

“You love wading around in wetlands- don’t lie to me.”

“I really do.” Mya admitted, with a laugh. “We’re looking into how certain bacteria affect the ecosystem of the marshes, and how the marshes in turn keep the rest of the city from eroding, and how dumping certain chemicals in them affect the microbial balance- it’s really cool. I’ll send you a link to an article Dr. B wrote about it recently.”

“Light reading?” Sansa smirked.

“You’ve honestly heard me prattle on about enough of this shit to smoke most of the freshmen we have in the intro ecology classes.” Mya huffed. “I promise you- you won’t have any trouble understanding it.”

“Well send it to me then- I’ll see what I can decode.” Sansa smiled. “So you’re alternately covered in swamp sludge and chalk?”

“Yeah.” Mya snorted. “I worked with a birthday party the other day where I had three separate kids cough in my face while I was getting them into their harnesses, so I’m probably looking at a summer cold soon. But they let me bring one guest for free on certain days, so I was going to see if Robin could come in with me if your dad said it was okay.”

She paused, and Sansa could practically see the horrified expression on her face.

“ _Shit_ San- I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Sansa told her, meaning her words entirely, even as her stomach had dropped into her feet. “It’s- this isn’t really a normal situation. It’s not- Honestly, I keep making the same mistake.” She admitted.

“Still.” Mya sighed.

“I know.” Sansa told her, wrapping her arms around herself. “Robb Stark is coming into town today.”

“The- shit.” Mya muttered. “Which one is he?”

“The oldest.”

“Well shit. Any word on what he’s like?”

“Not much.” Sansa shook her head. “I mean, most of what I know about the family comes from Arya- she mentioned that he lived in Oldtown and works at a museum- that much I remember, but I don’t really know much about him otherwise. I guess he has a pretty serious girlfriend that Catelyn doesn’t like?”

Mya snorted.

“Mrs. Stark struck me as the type to never think anyone was good enough for her children.”

“She is a little intimidating, isn’t she?” Sansa asked, smiling.

“Not intimidating you though, I hope.”

“She wants to take a class with me.” Sansa gave a small laugh.

“As long as it isn’t rock climbing.” Mya snorted. “If you let your long-lost biological mom take you rock climbing before you let _me_ take you rock climbing, we are going to have _words_ , Sansa.” She paused. “I almost called you Baelish, there.”

“I was expecting it.” Sansa replied, honestly. Mya tended to revert to last names when she was teasing Sansa, after all.

“Do we have a verdict on the last name thing yet?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Sansa sighed, rubbing her temples. “I don’t even know how it works legally, because my identity in Braavos apparently wasn’t even real, even though that’s how I’m enrolled in school and everything, but I don’t think I’m ready to use ‘Stark’ yet.”

“Then don’t.” Mya told her. “Pick one of your own or something. Take mine- be Sansa Stone. Or just like, do the one name thing. Like you’re a famous pop star or something.”

“At least I can drop Alayne.” Sansa muttered, feeling a smile steal over her lips. “I always hated Alayne.”

“Now there’s the bright side to this whole shitshow!” Mya crowed.

Sansa just threw her head back to laugh, feeling a million times lighter with her best friend there.

* * *

Robb was driving to the airport when Arya called- right in the middle of a song that he hated on the radio.

“Hey short stuff.”

“Hey.” She answered, uncharacteristically subdued. Robb was instantly curious.

“You okay, pipsqueak?”

“You’re coming home today, right?”

“I’m driving to the airport right now.” He told her, swearing as someone cut him off. “The traffic’s fucking awful, and if I sound stressed, it’s because my boss called me three times earlier when he couldn’t find a femur that one of the interns filed in the wrong drawer. Why- did Jon or Rick do something to upset Sansa?”

He was amazed he could say her name without flinching.

“Why do you automatically assume one of them did something?” Arya asked, sounding slightly amused. “Wait- how do you misfile a bone?”

“The museum cataloguing system is way more complicated than you would think, and with summer starting, we’ve got a wave of new interns who don’t know anything yet.” Robb snorted. “Also, Rick’s a loose cannon and I know for a fact that Jon gets flustered every time a pretty girl smiles at him.”

“You’re not wrong.” Arya muttered. “Did you get to see a picture of Sansa? She really is pretty.”

“Not yet, but I’ve seen mum and I’ve seen you- she’s got to at least be _passably_ pretty with how you two look.”

“Jerk.” Arya warmly told him.

They were quiet for a moment, and Robb sighed, familiar enough with Arya’s silences to have an idea of what she wanted to talk about.

“So you got to meet Sansa in Braavos.” He opened.

“Yeah.” Arya muttered. “Sorry I didn’t tell you initially. I kind of forgot.”

“S’okay, kiddo.” Robb told her, merging onto the highway. It wasn’t, really, and Robb was still a bit upset about it, but his feelings weren’t really Arya’s fault. He shoved them down, pushing forward and keeping his voice even. “Must have been busy.”

“It was.” She told him, voice perking up a bit now that she realized he wasn’t mad at her. “I mean, we hear about some crazy disturbance at the airport with guns, and then the harbor was crawling with police boats and then the next thing we knew, Uncle Oberyn was calling to tell me that Sansa was _alive_ for fuck’s sake and in his police station- it was really, really fast, Robb.”

“Guns?” Robb frowned. _That_ was new information. “Wait- who’s ‘we’?”

“Gendry was with me. And ask Oberyn- I don’t really know what happened at the airport and Sansa won’t talk about it.”

“Ah.” Robb replied, absently watching the road. “Gendry too. Is everybody getting to meet Sansa before me?”

“You were _literally_ on a different continent.” Arya muttered. Robb could practically _hear_ her rolling her eyes.

“I know.” Robb chuckled. “I’m just messing with you, shrimp.”

“Christ.” Arya muttered. “It really isn’t fair- you know, Sansa’s taller than me too. She’s probably almost as tall as you, you jerk.”

“Is she now?” Robb asked, eyebrows raising. “Oh I bet mum _loves_ that.”

Arya scoffed.

“Sansa could murder somebody in the kitchen and mum wouldn’t care, she’s just so over the fuckin’ moon to have her back.”

“Oh I don’t know-“ Robb mused, “I think mum would be very upset if someone got blood on her precious antique Braavosi tile backsplash.”

“Heads would literally roll.” Arya agreed. “Sansa seemed to like it, though, when mum pointed it out- I guess she’s got a good eye for design.”

“I’m sure I’ll learn all about it when I meet her.” Robb told her, with an air of nonchalance that he definitely didn’t feel. Every street closer to the airport made his stomach turn a bit more, and he was going to have to take a couple Dramamine before he got on the plane to settle his churning stomach. “Did you bring your saber home with you?”

Arya scoffed.

“Of course I did, Robert.”

“You gonna show me what you and your coach have been working on?” he asked, casually, feeling himself relax a bit as Arya excitedly went into talking about the new forms she was learning, and how coach Jaquen thought she might be able to try out for worlds next year.

It was good to hear her excited- Arya tended to get lost in the void that Sansa’s presence had left and _boy_ did Robb know how that felt. He was hoping he could head off any hurt feelings- he doubted that their parents were paying much attention to Arya with Sansa there and alive and in the flesh.

Not that he could blame them, but still.

* * *

“Sansa?”

Sansa looked up from her perch on one of the Stark’s obscenely comfortable pool chairs where she was sitting, watching Robin splash around with Rickon in the pool. Bran and Jon had gone out to run some sort of errand with Elia before Robb flew in, and she wasn’t sure where Arya had disappeared to. She had wanted to take advantage of the sun, and admittedly didn’t want to let Robin out of her sight more than she needed to, especially after her dream last night.

Ned’s face was pinched a bit, but hopeful, and his eyes were kind.

“Do you have a moment?” he asked, kindly.

“Of course.” Sansa told him, quickly getting up and taking her sketchbook with her. She’d seen some of the waves Rickon and Robin were causing- she wasn’t about to risk any of her drawings getting splashed. “Is everything alright?” she quietly asked him, coming up to stand next to him.

“It is.” Ned reassured her. “We just had someone we were hoping to introduce you to.”

Sansa’s face must have slipped ever so slightly in her panic because Ned quickly shook his head.

“Not family- not anyone like that.” He corrected, his grin a bit sheepish. “Sorry, sweetheart. Just some of our security team.” He didn’t seem to have caught the endearment, and it didn’t upset Sansa enough to correct him, strange as it felt.

“Lead the way.” Sansa told him, padding after him, pausing at the door to take off her sandals. She’d quickly picked up that this wasn’t something that people in Westeros always did, but it was outrageously rude in Braavos to wear shoes inside of someone’s home, and it wasn’t a habit that Sansa was interested in breaking.

The kitchen was quiet, lit up with natural sunlight from the picture window that looked out onto the pool. Sansa’s gaze fell on Catelyn, who was deep in conversation with Jory (Arya must still be here somewhere, then), and a tall blonde woman with broad shoulders and freckles, her lips charmingly crooked. Her eyes were bright and blue and intense as they settled on Sansa, and though she was uncomfortable under such a searching gaze, she gave the woman a small smile, not breaking eye contact. The woman looked slightly uncomfortable at this, but gave her a thin smile in return, nonetheless.

“Sansa!” Catelyn beamed as she stood to her full height- several inches shorter than Sansa herself, something which Arya seemed to find _hilarious,_ as far as Sansa could tell. “Enjoying the sun?”

“Trying to stay out of the splash zone, mostly.” Sansa told her, rewarded by one of Ned’s deep belly laughs.

“I hope Rickon isn’t misbehaving too much.” Catelyn pursed her lips, glancing out the window.

“I would be more worried about my- about Robin.” Sansa told her, forming her mouth into a smile. _M_ _y brother_. She’d almost said it as though Rickon wasn’t her brother as well, and she was only glad that no one else seemed to have caught her slip. “He’s always wanted a pool. The canals-“ she broke off, cursing her mouth for working without her consent today. She needed some decent sleep.

“I can’t imagine the canals of Braavos are suitable for swimming.” Ned joked, ushering Sansa into one of the counter chairs with a gentle touch to her shoulder. “They seem like the sort of thing a superhero gets powers from falling into.”

Sansa smiled weakly at him.

“ _Anyways_ , Ned, if you’re done-“ Catelyn gave him a look that made Sansa’s mouth quirk upwards, “Sansa, you’re familiar with Jory-“ Sansa nodded at the man, who gave her a gruff nod, “And we have a few other security members we wanted to introduce you to as well, but we were hoping to introduce you to Brienne Tarth sooner than later.”

“Ms. Stark.” Brienne nodded, holding out her hand to Sansa, who took it, wincing slightly.

“Um- just Sansa, please.” She told the woman, who narrowed her eyes for a second, but seemed to accept Sansa’s request, nodding. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“And you as well, Sansa.”

“Are you a member of the security team?” Sansa asked, politely. She was sure that she would have remembered someone this striking around Winterfell.

“Actually, Brienne has been working in the south until recently.” Ned told Sansa, pulling up a chair next to her. “She came very highly recommended from several friends.”

“We were hoping to discuss the possibility of Brienne acting as your personal guard for the forseeable future.” Catelyn interjected, eyes flicking between Brienne and Sansa. “Similar to the arrangement that we have for Arya, with Jory providing security for her when she’s at school.”

Sansa wasn’t sure she wanted a bodyguard, but she was smart enough to know that this wasn’t a discussion they were going to have- not if they’d invited Brienne here before even asking Sansa about it. Something bitter lodged in her stomach, but she merely smiled.

“Sure.” She told them, pasting an easy smile on her face, something twisted in her gut as Ned’s expression changed to one of such immense relief that Sansa wondered for a second if it genuinely _had_ been up for discussion. Then again, she couldn’t imagine _Arya_ of all people wanting someone to follow her everywhere, and suspected Ned was merely relieved she hadn’t protested like she was sure her sister had.

_Her sister._

The thought was enough to jolt Sansa- she knew logically that they were related, but it was almost uncomfortable to know that she was thinking of Arya as family so quickly. It wasn’t that the Starks weren’t lovely, but- well- it was still strange.

“Are you familiar with the typical arrangements, Ms. Sansa?” Brienne asked, yanking Sansa out of her own mind. She shook her head.

“I’ve um- I’ve never had a bodyguard before.”

“It’s relatively simple.” Brienne told her, all professional. “I go where you go, but I’ll be discreet enough that you won’t feel as though you’re being followed.”

“We don’t-“ Catelyn started, looking up at Ned, who easily took over the thread.

“We don’t want you to feel like you’re trapped here.” Ned told her, gently, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder before he went to sit next to Catelyn. “In Winterfell, that is. You’re an adult, and If you want to go somewhere, you’re more than welcome to. We just want to make sure that you’re safe wherever you go.”

“The press-“ Catelyn winced, glancing to Ned and back to Sansa, “-the press has not been kind to us, and we’d rather you not have to interact with reporters unless you want to.”

Sansa very much did _not_ want to have to talk to reporters either. She’d been staying off the internet as much as she could, and had talked to Robin about it as well- letting him know that he’d probably see a lot of things about her that weren’t true. She was only glad that Robin’s name hadn’t been caught up in this whole thing yet. The media hadn’t connected him to Jon Arryn, and for that, Sansa was grateful.

“I would rather not interact with them either.” She admitted, quietly. It was hard to get the words out- but it seemed to be what Ned and Catelyn wanted to hear from her, because they both nodded sympathetically.

“We’ll do our best to ensure that you don’t have to, Sansa.” Brienne told her, all business. Sansa wondered if the woman ever smiled- she had some of the most beautiful eyes Sansa had ever seen, but right now, they were very intense, and entirely focused on her. “Now, as far as working out the details of this arrangement…”

Sansa wished she had thought to grab a cup of tea- she had a feeling that this was going to take a while.

* * *

“Robb!”

Robb Stark turned around, grinning as he spotted Rodrick Cassel- the longtime head of the Stark’s security team.

“Hey Rodrick.” He greeted, clapping the older man on the back in a loose embrace as he followed him out to the car. “How’s life treating you?”

“Can’t complain, kid.” Rodrick told him, straight faced as usual, but his eyes warm. “Your old man’s raising my pay to deal with all these paparazzi assholes, so I’m thinking of jetting off to Sothoryos when all is said and done.”

“Oh I’m sure Mrs. Cassel will be very appreciative.” Robb grinned. It was good to see Rodrick- he’d been a feature of the Stark children’s lives since they were small, and had been lenient with Robb and Jon’s misbehavior on several occasions as long as they hadn’t been putting themselves in danger. “How’s she doing- is Beth still working for that marketing firm in Riverrun?”

He contented himself with listening to Rodrick talk about his wife and daughter as the city faded into the countryside and the Wolfswood, anxiety roiling in his stomach as they inched closer to Winterfell.

What had he been thinking, coming back? What on earth could he _possibly_ have to say to Sansa that she would want to hear? What on earth were they going to talk about?

What the hell was he going to do?

“You’re a bit quiet there, lad.” Rodrick observed.

“Sorry, Rod.” Robb murmured, “I promise I’m listening. You said Beth was dating someone?”

“Eh, some punk that her mother doesn’t like.” Rodrick snorted. “Nothing new. What’s got you so distracted?”

“Sansa.” Robb answered, honestly, clenching and unclenching his fists. It wasn’t worth lying to Rod- he had caught Robb, Jon, and occasionally Egg and Theon in more adolescent bullshit than Robb cared to think about. If Rod still liked Robb after catching him and Jon drunkenly skinny dipping in the lake after senior prom, then there wasn’t really much to hide.

“Seems like a sweet kid.” Rodrick shrugged. “Bit out of her depth, but aren’t we all.”

“You’re not wrong.” Robb muttered.

“Robb.” Rodrick said, his voice taking on the serious tone that Robb had known meant to listen. He turned to look at the man, his solid expression calming, and Robb could feel his nerves settling- if only a little. “No one knows what they’re doing here, kid. Just be you- that’s all anyone expects.”

“Thanks Rod.” He muttered, agitatedly running his hand through his hair. Rodrick glanced over at him, but took mercy on Robb and changed the subject.

“You bringing that lovely girl of yours back to visit anytime soon?”

“As soon as I can.” Robb gave a harsh chuckle. “Believe me, I’m gonna need her.”

* * *

Robb checked his phone as soon as he got out of the car, and was glad he did.

**Dad:** We’re out back with appetizers- whenever you get here

 **Dad:** No rush

Well, it was nice to know he’d at least be able to splash some water on his face before the most nerve-wracking moment of his adult life. He ran his hands down the sides of his jeans, tapping his fingers agitatedly as he looked into his bathroom mirror at Winterfell.

**Robb:** Panicking

 **Robb:** SOS

 **Robb:** Pls

 **Tal:** sweetie,

 **Tal:** light of my life

 **Tal:** get your butt out there

 **Robb:** I’m nervous

 **Tal:** I’d be worried if you weren’t

 **Tal:** honey, you can do this

 **Tal:** I know it’s hard, but I know you, and I know she’s going to love you

 **Robb:** you’re biased

 **Tal:** so help me god, robb

 **Robb:** Love you too

 **Robb:** here I go

He straightened his shirt four different times before he decided to French tuck it, ran his shaking fingers through his hair, and cleaned his glasses. Again.

Every step he took towards the back porch felt like walking to his own execution. But there was something else in his stomach too-

It was either excitement or indigestion, and given the sandwich that he’d eaten on the plane, it really could have been both.

“C’mon.” he muttered to himself, shaking out his shoulders. “Get your shit together. The sooner you do it, the sooner it’ll be over.”

He felt only a mild twinge of guilt at that statement. Of course he wanted to see Sansa- of _course_ he fucking did. But he was fighting a losing battle with his anxiety, and something had to give.

He just hoped it wouldn’t be his legs giving out from under him.

* * *

“Robb!” His mother’s bright grin was infectious as she greeted him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Hey mum.” He murmured, inhaling the comforting scent of the moisturizer his mother had been using for as long as he could remember.

“Long flight?” she looked sympathetic as she nodded to indicate the circles under his eyes.

“Something like that.” He smiled. “Gang’s all here, I guess.”

His mother leaned forward, conspiratorially and her eyes shone with a thrill that Robb had never seen before.

“She’s going to love you, sweetie. Just wait.”

And then Robb pulled away, intending to greet his father, but Ned Stark was gently ushering forward a girl with brilliant red hair, and Robb’s stomach dropped into his feet. Arya gave him a raised eyebrow, and he realized at the last minute that his mouth was hanging open and slammed it shut.

She held out her hand, giving him a shy smile- though Robb could see the trepidation in her eyes. She was pale like their mother, and her hair was bound up in a braid encircling her head that looked like something off the cover of Westerosi Vogue. Her blouse had interesting balloon sleeves that Robb briefly thought Tal would like, but he forgot all about it when he met Sansa’s eyes.

“Hi.” She said, the corners of her mouth quirking up as her eyes darted side to side to the hovering crowd around them.

Elia and his mother seemed to realize the overcrowding problem at the same time and began shooing people away as Robb gently reached out to take Sansa’s hand in his own.

“Hi.” He told her, a bit breathless. She was the most beautiful thing Robb had ever seen, and her smile was uncertain as she let go of his hand, tucking a nonexistent stray hair behind her ear.

He wanted to embrace her- to hold on and not let go, but he knew that he was a virtual stranger to her, and shoved his hands awkwardly in his pockets to keep his arms from moving on their own. He didn’t know what to say- opening his mouth and then shutting it again. He was sure his friend Wylla would have told him he looked like a fish, and Arya was probably snickering over Sansa’s shoulder somewhere.

“You know, Arya’s told me a bit about you.” Sansa told him, folding her arms in front of herself almost protectively. “Not much to go off of, though.”

Robb groaned, bring a fist up to his forehead in exasperation.

“Ignore anything Arya tells you. Please.” He told her, giving a weak smile. “In fact, ignore anything anyone tells you about me, especially Rhaenys. Please don’t listen to Rhaenys.”

Sansa gave a slight laugh, and Robb noticed that her eyes were a little glassy and he had to mentally count to ten to keep his breathing from speeding up. Not even five minutes and he’d already made her cry.

“I haven’t- I haven’t had the chance to meet her yet.” Sansa admitted, tapping her foot slightly. “I’ve heard lots though.”

“She’s a delightful busybody who will love having another person around who might gang up on Jon with her.” Robb laughed, nervously.

They lapsed into an awkward silence, and Robb desperately tried to think of something to ask her. The problem, really was _what_. He wanted to know everything- did she have a happy childhood? Did she have any allergies? What did she like to do on the weekends? What was it like to live in Braavos? How was she settling in?

He didn’t want to overwhelm her, though, and so he blanked out for a second, undoubtedly looking like an idiot in front of his long-lost sister.

They both tried to speak at the same time the next moment.

“It’s-“

“Are you-“

Sansa blushed, looking at her feet, and Robb tried not to be mortified.

“Sorry- what were you saying?” he asked, trying to gently prompt her.

“Oh- sorry.” Sansa muttered, shaking her head slightly. “I was just going to ask if you were a student or if you were working.”

“Both.” Robb told her, warmth spreading through his limbs at her question. Her small smile at his answer prompted him to keep talking. “I- er- I’m working on my PhD at the moment, actually.”

“Oh- that’s awesome!” Sansa responded, looking pleasantly surprised. “What in?”

“I studied finance for the first half of undergrad-“ he told her, encouraged by the way her face had lit up, “But I had to take an archaeology class as an elective my second semester sophomore year.” He shrugged, giving a sheepish grin. “I kind of fell in love- I took an anthro course the next semester, and had to come home and tell everyone that I was going to be in school a bit longer because I was changing my major.”

“That’s so cool though.“ Sansa was giving him a genuine smile now, her hands relaxing slowly to her sides. “So wait- did you decide on archaeology?”

“Anthropology.” Robb admitted, running a nervous hand through his hair. “I focus on biological anthropology- the nerdy kind, but there’s some overlap in the work that the archaeology and anthro departments do. One of my advisors is actually a paleoarchaeologist.”

“So what are you focusing your research on now?” Sansa asked him, just as their mother bustled over, looking nearly frantically happy.

“Both of you, come sit down.” She instructed, herding Sansa and Robb over towards the rest of the patio chairs. “Sansa, dear, you’ll have to tell Ned what you want on the grill for tonight-“

Robb rolled his eyes as his mother prattled on at Sansa about their cookout, and did she like hamburgers, or did she want Ned to put on a piece of chicken for her? He caught Sansa’s eye as Catelyn ushered her towards the others and cocked his head towards their mother to roll his eyes again.

The small, upward quirk of Sansa’s mouth nearly bowled him over with a heady feeling of joy that burst upwards in his chest, and it was a high that Robb could have ridden all week.

* * *

Sansa had been uncertain about Robb- he seemed to be the Stark that everyone was the most nervous for her to meet, though no one would tell _her_ that, and she’d been picking up on the tension there since they’d landed in Westeros. When she’d asked Arya, her sister had been oddly reticent about the oldest Stark, though seemed to view him with a sort of affectionate exasperation. She’d told Sansa that he worked at a museum, but they’d gotten sidetracked at that point, and Sansa hadn’t really had a chance to learn more.

But he seemed perfectly nice, if a little more nervous than the others. He certainly seemed to know how to dress- he looked far more put together than Sansa would have expected. And now he was rolling his eyes at his mother as she herded Sansa over towards the rest of the group. Jon winked at her as Catelyn ushered her into the seat next to him, and she raised her eyebrows, glad that someone here was calm.

“Is Robb telling you how he works with dead people?” Arya asked, appearing behind Sansa so quickly that Sansa didn’t even have time to process. Her mouth was right next to Sansa’s ear, and she couldn’t help but freeze for a second. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice, save Robb, who was frowning slightly.

“He hadn’t quite gotten there yet.” Sansa managed to say, looking back at her sister with her mouth pursed. Arya just smirked at her.

“In fairness, generally they’ve been dead for quite a while.” Bran told them, rolling up with Rickon coasting on the back of his chair. Bran turned his head back to him. “If you make my chair do a wheelie, I will spray paint that signed soccer jersey you have.”

Rickon wrinkled his nose at Bran, but stepped down anyways, Robin following closely behind him. Sansa relaxed at the sight of her brother, smiling as she gestured for him to come sit next to her.

“Robin, have you had the chance to meet Robb yet?” she asked, putting an arm around her brother. “He was just telling us about his job.”

“Hi Robb.” Robin said, quietly, giving him a small wave. Robb smiled wearily at him, running a hand through his hair.

“Hey Robin.” He greeted. “I heard you’re keeping my brothers on their toes.”

Robin just shrugged, looking down, and Sansa gave him a gentle squeeze to reassure him. He didn’t like being the center of attention, she knew, so she was quick to redirect the subject. He was getting more comfortable with the Starks, but a new person meant a new adjustment, and Sansa briefly wondered how long it would take Robin to acclimate to the entire family. She didn’t think they were even halfway through introductions yet- and wasn’t _that_ an exhausting thought.

“Apparently, Robb works for a museum.” She told Robin, drawing a small smile from him.

“What kind?” Robin asked, quietly. Sansa rewarded him with a real smile.

“Natural history.” Robb told them, resting his elbows on his knees while he fidgeted with his hands. “I’m a bio-anthropologist-“

“Dead people.” Arya nodded again.

“Very _old_ dead people, shrimp.” Robb corrected, raising a brow at his sister. “Like Bran said, by the time they get to me, they’ve usually been dead for quite a while.”

“Er- how long is a while?” Sansa asked, glancing between Robb and Arya with some confusion.

“A couple hundred-thousand to millions of years.” Robb told her, a smile tugging at his lips as Sansa’s eyes widened. “You asked me what I was researching earlier- I’m looking into a subgroup of early hominids that have been found at several sites in Northern Westeros- the media have been calling them ‘children of the forest’. They were smaller in stature than modern humans, and we think they might be an entirely separate species, but no one’s really looked into the ramifications of that yet.” He shrugged, looking kind of sheepish. “It’s a bit morbid, but I enjoy it.”

“It sounds fascinating.” Sansa admitted, “Although I’m not quite familiar-“

To her great surprise, it was _Robin_ of all people who interrupted her.

“Were those the bodies that they found in the bogs?” he asked Robb, suddenly alert. “The- what was it- Crannogmen?”

“Not the Crannogmen, but we did find quite a few bodies of the children of the forest in the same bogs.” Robb told him, his grin broad. “Good catch- did you guys learn about those in school?”

Robin shook his head turning to Sansa.

“Mya told me about them- she was complaining about scientists going through the marshes where she was trying to do-“ he paused, scrunching up his face, “Something. I forget what. Samples, maybe?”

“She’s gonna be _so_ thrilled that you remembered that.” Sansa laughed. “My- er- my best friend is an ecology major who is _extremely_ passionate about wetlands.”

“I know the type.” Robb muttered, looking amused. “She’s not wrong though- there are a few bogs outside Braavos that have fantastic conditions for preservation- I joined an expedition with a colleague of mine a while back in that area.”

“Oh, when were you there?” Sansa asked, wondering if she might have passed this man in the streets at any point- and wasn’t _that_ an unnerving thought.

“Last summer.” Robb told her, his smile tired. He had dark circles under his eyes, Sansa was just now noticing. His next words stole all breath from her, though. “The first week of July.”

Sansa froze, and this time, people noticed, multiple heads turning towards her.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Catelyn frowned.

“Yes.” Sansa managed to choke out. “Um-“

Her hands were shaking, and she withdrew her arm from Robin’s shoulder, clenching her fists together in her lap.

“Sansi?” Robin asked, poking at her side. She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, looking down at him, and gave an uneasy grin.

“I’m- er- I’m sorry.” She muttered, her nails digging into the flesh of her palms. “It’s just- we were in Pentos- Pet- er- Baelish had a last minute trip that he surprised us with.”

They had traveled so infrequently that Sansa remembered it clearly. She’d called out of work last-minute, and her boss had been incredibly annoyed. But Petyr had come in one day, pressing train tickets into her hands and she’d been so _excited_ to _finally_ go somewhere that she hadn’t even stopped to wonder _why_ -

Had he been watching the Starks this whole time? Was their trip just a ruse to get her out of the city so that she wouldn’t be discovered, even accidentally?

She could feel her breath coming quickly now, and stood up, nearly knocking over a footstool.

“I’m- I-“

Elia came to her rescue, and Sansa could have kissed the woman.

“Sansa, if you’re able, I could use a hand getting some things ready in the kitchen.” She offered. Sansa nodded, her movements stiff and robotic, quickly following Elia back into the kitchen, her face hot and flushed. She was embarrassed at her behavior- embarrassed that she hadn’t been able to control her reaction- and all she could do was take a breath and try not to let her frustration show.

* * *

Robb sat, completely still as he watched Sansa walk after Elia, feeling something awful well up in his stomach. _A surprise trip_.

He had the feeling Sansa had drawn the same conclusion that he was coming to now, and couldn’t blame her at all for getting upset.

Baelish had been _watching_ them. Keeping track of his family- shadowing their footsteps and actively keeping Sansa out of reach. He’d- he’d manipulated Sansa into missing a chance to find them- and this was the man who had _raised_ her.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

He couldn’t imagine how Sansa felt.

* * *

Somewhere amidst the chaos that had become her life, Sansa had decided that she loved the Martell family. Elia had the same reassuring presence as her brother, and she hadn’t said a word to Sansa about her outburst- simply smiled, and handed her a zucchini to begin cutting up. Sansa was in the middle of dicing it very slowly (her hands were still shaking), when Ned Stark slowly walked into the kitchen, stopping at the counter in front of her.

“Sansa-” Ned murmured, placing a steady hand over her own shaking one.

“I’m sorry-“ she babbled, letting the knife rest on the counter where she wouldn’t accidentally skewer anyone with it, “I didn’t mean to ruin the evening-“

“You haven’t ruined anything.” Ned told her, and when Sansa met his eyes, they were so earnest she almost wanted to cry. “Not a single thing.” He raised his eyebrows at her miserable expression. “I mean that, Sansa. You want to hear about a ruined evening, ask Robb and Jon about the time they decided to set off fireworks from the roof, and set part of the grounds on fire.”

She let out a choking laugh, and if it was dangerously close to a sob, Ned Stark was kind enough not to mention it.

“That sounds like quite a night.” She managed to get out, after a few silent moments.

“Oh, it was.” Ned agreed. “Hilarious in retrospect, but they were damn lucky they didn’t burn down the whole manor.”

“I’ve never gotten to try shooting off fireworks.” Sansa admitted, sniffling a bit and purposefully choosing an onion to cut next, so that she could blame her tears on the root vegetable instead of her wild emotions. Ned’s mouth quirked as he watched her pick up the onion to start slicing, but he didn’t comment on her choice. 

“We can try it if you really want, but the professional ones always look better, I think.” He told her, voice calm and even. Sansa nodded, chopping carefully. It was always calming to have something to do with her hands, and she had kind of missed cooking while she’d been here.

“You know, no one expected any of this to be easy.” Ned told her, softly. Sansa looked up at him, feeling a tear run down her face, and she was still going to blame the onion, damnit.

“I don’t want to make things complicated.” She muttered, sweeping half of the chopped onion into a bowl and moving to the other half.

“Well that’s a bit of a bummer.” Ned joked, and Sansa’s head shot up, her face contorted in confusion. “I mean, Robb and Arya alone have been making my life complicated for quite a while - I was kind of hoping you could continue the streak.”

Sansa gaped at him, and although Elia had been making a valiant effort to pretend not to hear their conversation, Sansa heard her sigh from across the room.

“Really, Ned?”

“Sansa, we’re beyond thrilled that you’re here- that you agreed to even come stay with us.” Ned told her, patently ignoring Elia and resting his elbows on the counter as he sat in front of where Sansa was chopping vegetables. “You haven’t ruined anything, and I can guarantee that _no one_ is going to be upset with you, whether you decide to head upstairs for the rest of the night, or come out and eat burgers with the rest of us.”

Sansa met his eyes, and there was nothing disingenuous there. It didn’t feel like a trap, but still…

“No, I’ll come back out.” She told Ned, her voice slightly steadier. That felt like the safer option, especially when Robb had flown all the way from Oldtown to see her. If they were upset, that could mollify everyone a bit.

“It’s up to you, Sansa.” He told her, softly. “All we want is for you to feel comfortable.”

Sansa nodded, her mouth pressed together, and she forced a smile as Elia came over to hand her a few washed bell peppers to chop. Bracing herself, she looked up, pasting a smile on her face for Ned, who slowly returned it, something in his eyes sad as he moved away to take the burgers from Elia.

Sansa just focused on the peppers, taking comfort from the repetitive motion, and trying not to think too hard about anything. Slicing. That was easy.

She could do that.

* * *

“How’re you holding up?” Jon asked, making his way out onto their roof spot, where Robb was already waiting, perched on the lip of the roof like he used to when they were younger.

“She has an accent.” Robb muttered, his posture far too forced to be casual.

Jon frowned.

“What?”

“She has an accent.” Robb muttered, bringing a hand up to brush invisible dirt off of his forehead. It was a nervous habit that Robb had had since they were kids- it was odd to see it come back on a man fully grown. “Like Tal’s, but sharper.”

“I- I hadn’t noticed.” Jon admitted, coming over to sit across from him. The rooftop balcony was quiet, the only sound the chorus of insects in the woods. Admittedly, his thoughts had mostly been on Sansa’s almost-outburst from earlier, rather than her accent. The rest of the evening had been pretty normal, if a bit stilted at times, but Sansa had seemed to easily go back to small talk with everyone, seeming content to listen as Arya went on about her new fencing coach for half an hour before Catelyn had insisted they talk about something else.

“I mean, it makes sense.” Robb huffed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “She’s from Braavos, after all. They speak High Valyrian- slightly different dialect than Tal’s family in Volantis but still.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“I mean, I knew it would be strange.” Robb interjected, piercing the silence, “But I don’t know- for some reason that just- that just was jarring to me. Even with- well, you know. The realization that Baelish was keeping track of us.”

“I’m sorry mate.” Jon told him, clapping his shoulder.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Robb gave him a glib grin. “God- I already miss Tal. She’d have known what to say- not just stared at Sansa like a fucking idiot while she was clearly panicking.”

“It’s not exactly a normal situation, Robb.” Jon reminded him. “I think that even with Sansa getting upset, she’s just quiet by nature. you two seemed to get along well enough before everything with that bastard came up.”

“Arya said she was really quiet the first time they met.” Robb muttered, nodding. “I hope she’s just shy- that it isn’t something else.”

“What’s the alternative?” Jon raised a brow.

“That she’s afraid of us.” Robb muttered, running a hand across his face again. “Or intimidated by us. Or feeling anything other than entirely welcomed here. I don’t know. Like, I know she wouldn’t immediately feel at home here, but there’s something really upsetting about the idea that she would be uncomfortable at Winterfell, and the way she got upset earlier-” He was quiet for a second, and his voice twisted horribly with his next words. “This was supposed to be her home.”

Jon suddenly wished that Talisa was here as well, which made him feel like a horrible person. Robb was one of his closest friends- practically his brother- and he had never wanted to have a conversation less. It wasn’t like they hadn’t talked about Sansa before- they had talked about her a _lot._

But before, it had always been hypothetical. Jon had known what to say- had known what points Robb would hit like it was a script. Had always known what to say to distract Robb- to make him stop blaming himself- to get his mind out of the darker places.

But how did you distract from something when the subject in question was downstairs, asleep, in your house? Sansa wasn’t exactly a hypothetical anymore.

He was at a loss, and watching the emotions cycle through Robb’s face, Jon wondered- somewhat bitterly- when he had stopped seeing his best friend.

When had he stopped listening and started just going through the motions with Robb? The man in front of him- pensive and introspective- quiet and a little bit bitter- was different enough from what Jon had been expecting that it stung a bit to realize how he’d miscalculated.

Jon had been busy with school- they both had- but he wondered when he and Robb had pulled apart like this to the point where hearing these things was a surprise to him.

It was never fun to be confronted with the knowledge that you might have dropped the ball a bit.

“I hate to say it, but that might just take time.” Jon told him, keeping his voice gentle.

“Yeah.” Robb agreed. “I kind of hate that, though.”

“Fucking Baelish.” Jon growled.

Robb barked a laugh.

“You got that right.” He snorted. “Fucking Baelish.” He paused. “ _Fuck_ Petyr Baelish.” He hissed, vehemence layered into every word.

“I’d kill the bastard myself if I could.” Jon muttered.

“You’d have to get in line.” Robb muttered. “You know, behind me and Arya and Oberyn and Uncle Brandon- who is absolutely _furious_ if Aunt Ashara’s texts are anything to go by.”

“I think you’re missing somebody.” Jon pointed out. “My money’s on Uncle Ned already having asked the fat king for a pardon.”

“What do you mean?”

“For when your mum inevitably rips Baelish apart with her bare hands in court.” Jon flippantly told him, grinning.

Robb snorted so loudly that a bird flew out of a tree on the grounds, squawking indignantly at him as he doubled over, laughing.

“Yeah-“ he managed to say, wheezing as he clutched his stomach, “And we’re all just lining up afterwards to spit on the fucking monster’s corpse then.”

Jon gave a barking laugh, shoulders shaking

“You really think anything’s going to be left after your mum is through with him?” Jon managed to ask, in between his laughter.

Robb only laughed harder, bent over, shoulders shaking, and god if Jon didn’t know how fucked up this conversation was, but he’d be damned if it didn’t feel good to just let loose like this and laugh. To feel like at least they’d pulled something over on the pathetic bastard that had ruined their lives.

* * *

His conversation with the director about the bastard fresh in his mind, Oberyn thought about Petyr Baelish and tried not to give in to the haze of anger at the situation.

They had him dead to rights on Sansa’s kidnapping- he had knowingly detained the poor kid for her entire life, and there was a plethora of evidence pointing the finger at him for that crime. But it was jurisdiction they needed to worry about- They had only _just_ begun to scratch the surface of Littlefinger’s contacts in Essos, after all.

Daemon and the rest of the team had subpoenaed every document they could think of, and were going through the bastard’s financials with a fine-toothed comb, but it was like trying to hack pieces off of an iceberg. The more you chipped away at it, the more you saw what was hidden beneath the surface, and the more frightening it looked.

His last meeting with the director and Daenerys Targaryen had been tense- Oberyn could respect Daenerys’ endless and fervent drive for justice- and gods knew that her fervor had put away some of the worst of the worst- but she tended to become single-minded on cases, and Oberyn worried that her desire to lock Baelish away could come at the expense of Sansa’s well-being- especially if the prosecutor decided to dig too deep into what their lives had looked like before Oberyn had found Sansa.

Personal feelings aside, though, Oberyn, Daenerys, and the Director had all had the same concern: that trying Petyr Baelish in Braavos was too risky. They didn’t know what political pots Baelish had his hands in, and they didn’t know who in the city-state he would be able to bribe. Littlefinger had contacts in Westeros, certainly, but the WBI’s organized crime division had had eyes on him for _decades_ in The Seven Kingdoms. They knew the terrain better, and public opinion in Westeros was clamoring for Baelish to be held guilty of the heinous crimes he’d committed.

 _With little regard to how many Westerosi believed Ned and Catelyn had been responsible for their own child’s disappearance._ Oberyn thought, anger bubbling under his skin. _You had to fucking wave hard proof in their faces to get them to see that the Starks were victims in all of this as well._

They needed him tried in Westeros, but if they didn’t have adequate cause to do so, Oberyn wasn’t sure that it mattered how loudly Robert Baratheon bellowed about it. Baelish wouldn’t be extradited to Westeros unless they could accuse him of several very specific crimes, and Daenerys’ point the other night about how Baelish hadn’t _actually_ been the one to take Sansa- he’d been at a public fundraiser in Gulltown- incredibly visible and insufferably smug- had stuck with Oberyn.

“There’s a chance that the Braavosi Sealord won’t give him back to us if we can’t directly link him to the person who actually- _physically-_ “ she added, at Oberyn’s disgruntled look, “-took Sansa from the Starks’ home in White Harbor. We need records that can prove a money trail of some sort- trying Baelish in Braavos could win Ferrego Antaryon the reelection that’s been at risk for him since those corruption allegations surfaced last October.”

“I would believe it.” Oberyn muttered, darkly. “The case has become a political litmus test for Braavosi legislators almost overnight- the fifth district representative was forced to resign last week when he made remarks about needing to prove Baelish’s guilt before trying him in the media- the public outcry was loud and damning.”

“If jurisdiction of this case becomes a pissing contest between Baratheon and Antaryon, it’s going to invite scrutiny that we don’t need.” The Blackfish muttered, rubbing his forehead. The rings under his eyes were dark, and Oberyn doubted he’d been sleeping well lately. Daenerys looked as put together as always- her charcoal gray pinstriped suit sharp as the high-heeled red pumps that had become her trademark in the courtroom.

“We need to be prepared for the worst-case scenario here.” Daenerys pointed out. “Baelish could have buried this- probably _did_ bury this particular trail as well as he could. There’s a chance you won’t be able to recover it.”

“And that leaves an opening for Antaryon to keep Baelish in Braavos.” Oberyn muttered. “Goddamnit.”

Brynden Tully’s eyes suddenly sharpened, and he turned to Daenerys with a focused set to his mouth that hadn’t been there previously.

“What if we could link him to a capital crime against another Westerosi citizen?” he urgently asked, leaning forward. Daenerys’ eyebrows shot up.

“If we had a direct link, Antaryon would be under far more pressure to hand him over,” She responded, nodding, “but does this mean you have evidence that you haven’t shared at this point in time?”

Oberyn groaned, letting his forehead fall into his palm.

“It’s not evidence so much as an overwhelming hunch.” He muttered, cursing Brynden Tully in the privacy of his mind. “I haven’t been able to run it down yet- we’ve been a little busy with Baelish’s financials, and trying to keep the media in the dark.”

“And?” Daenerys asked, impatience written on her face.

“Lysa Tully-Arryn died about five years ago.” Oberyn lifted his head to look her in the eyes, noting the dawning comprehension on her face. For all his personal distaste for some of Daenerys’ personality traits, she was whip-smart, and _very_ quick to rear her head when she smelled blood. It was an excellent quality in a prosecutor, and according to his niece and nephews, a very irritating quality at times in an aunt. “ESRD. I don’t think it was entirely an accident.”

Daenerys’ eyes _lit_ up.

“Then investigate that.” She told him, her voice more commanding than Oberyn cared for- never mind that she was right. “Even if Baelish only helped her death along, that’s still a capital crime. We’ll have the law on our side, and if Antaryon still doesn’t agree to extradition, he’ll be committing political suicide. Baratheon is already furious enough about what happened to the Stark family- he’ll consider it a personal insult if we can’t have Baelish after he was responsible for the death of Hoster Tully’s daughter.” She practically snorted. “That great oaf of a king slaps tariffs on anything that annoys him- it’s crude, but he could cripple Braavos’ economy if he wanted to.” She looked triumphant. “I’d like to see Antaryon answer to _that_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter dedicated to Microsoft Word for trying to spellcheck ‘Sansa’ as ‘Salsa’ every. damn. time. 
> 
> We're back, bay-bee!!! A million thanks to everyone who's stuck around while my life has been nuts- I love this story, and I'm so excited to finally update.
> 
> I have hereby decided that Robb…. Is a giant nerd. Think about it- this kid literally probably spent most of his formative years trying to rock the boat as little as possible, and so decided that finance would be his thing in college. Great. But then he takes this one class, and just says ‘fuck it, I’ve been the good kid, here’s an existential crisis on a platter for you’ and then runs off to Meereen for a summer internship cataloguing bones from an archaeological site or something. Also, bio-anthropology is cool as hell, and I can see Robb fitting in both at dig sites and in museum halls (The boy is stylish, but he also owns a lot of cargo pants for digs and Talisa has a pretty large repertoire of Indiana jones jokes for the occasion).
> 
> Also, you may have noticed this a bit, but Sansa tends to lead conversations to the point where she’s not the one doing most of the talking. I don’t think she even realizes this, but it’s another subtle defense mechanism I think she’s developed from living with Baelish- there are a lot of little mannerisms I've tried to write for Sansa that make sense for someone who's grown up with a controlling/abusive parental figure, and every time I put her in a new situation, I feel like I understand a new facet of her personality better. Honestly, we kind of started slow and began to spiral into a lot of complicated feelings in this chapter, from Robb’s fear and anxiety, to Sansa’s doubt about her place at Winterfell and her panic at the thought that Baelish was actively watching the Starks, to Jon’s realization that he probably hasn’t been what Robb needs for him lately. Ned is adorable and earnest and so sincere, and of course Sansa doesn’t know how to take that at face value yet. A parental figure like Baelish will do that to you.
> 
> You might also notice that Sansa seems the most comfortable around Arya so far- I think Arya’s pretty open and blunt without being insensitive with her thoughts, and Arya’s a character who, canonically, is really good at befriending people. It’s a combination of those two factors, the fact that she and Arya can speak to each other easily in High Valyrian, and she’s had the most time to get acclimated to Arya out of everyone. 
> 
> I’m literally on the verge of making an excel spreadsheet to keep up with everything because I genuinely am having trouble with it right now- this story has developed a shocking number of moving parts, and I have to go back and make a few minor edits because i accidentally have Jon Arryn in like, three different places. Whoops. 
> 
> There were a few things I wanted to have in this chapter that I pushed for reasons of space- this chapter takes place over the span of a single day, so pacing was tricky here, and there were some bits and pieces with Bran and Rickon that I'm going to hopefully include in later chapters (I loved writing this one, but there's a distinct lack of Lyanna and Aegon, who are two of my most enjoyable characters to write, so I'm looking forward to Egg's arrival at Winterfell, and watching Jon get roasted by his older siblings). 
> 
> Next chapter: Therapy is front and center, Jon Arryn finally shows up, Sansa gets to meet Aegon and Rhaenys, and we get to see a bit more of what’s going on with the investigation, featuring a healthy dose of beaurocracy. 
> 
> Thank you so SO much to everyone who bookmarks/leaves kudos on my works, and a special thank you to those of you who leave lovely comments on my chapters, and who leave me lovely asks on tumblr. You guys are absolutely fantastic, and I'm continually blown away by the amount of love and support this story has received.
> 
> Come say hi to me on tumblr sometime- I'm @mkstrigidae ! I love getting to chat with people about this stuff, and love to hear people's takes on the story :) I have the wider plot threads figured out for this story, it's just tying together the B-plots that takes time. That, and actually writing. And editing. It's a process.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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